Let Me Live Without It
by TeaCakeTiger
Summary: They hadn't interacted much since they were children. America had always been like an older brother to Belarus. Now that they're older, they're suddenly back in each other's lives. Things aren't like they used to be at all. It's surprising to both of them how much they need each other. Mostly America/Belarus. Some France/England suggestions.
1. Chapter 1

It was the end of yet another world meeting. As usual, nothing had gotten done. In fact, England had stormed out only half way through the meeting when France, being the wonderful gentleman that he was, decided to say that even America's hamburgers were better than the "rocks that weren't even good enough for a rock monster to eat that the English bastard brought".

It wasn't a lie when I say that most everyone agreed with France, America's hamburgers truly would've been way better than those 'rocks' that England brought. It's just that everyone else was _nice_ enough not to say anything. It should've been expected that one of the best cooks in the world would object sooner or later though. There weren't many who cared too much. Italy had felt bad though and chased after England quickly when he left. He had been the only one.

Belarus was gathering up her papers from the meeting and trying to convince her older brother Russia to hold hands with her on the walk home. Russia had been refusing. He was deeply afraid that it would somehow turn out to be how she was going to drag him off to for a wedding.

He made sure to keep his purple eyes fixated on gathering his papers and organizing them accordingly. He refused to make eye contact with her. She was afraid it would result in giving her confidence. Everything about her made him afraid. Every. Last. Bit.

Her directness, her violence, her beauty, it all terrified him. Although he had convinced himself he'd never give in to any of it, he was still deeply afraid that at one point, she'd pull something to make him crack. Something that would make him feel sorry for all the hurt he put his younger sister through. That was all her fault though. She brought all the hurt onto herself. She should've been smarter. She shouldn't have pushed for a relationship that was more than siblings. She should've realized that it was wrong to hope for something like that. And… and she should've realized that he loved someone else.

The Russian man was shaken from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up to see a large, sparkling grin facing him. A cheerful American voice greeted him, "Yo Russia! You still here man? You and your sister are the only ones left besides me!"

Russia looked around the room. This was true. Everyone else had left. He suddenly felt thankful towards the American man. He didn't want to be left in the room alone with his sister.

He smiled lightly. That made Belarus flip inside. America looked over to Belarus and then at Russia and saw that he was leaning away from her. He grinned, "Hey, bro! Why don't you ever seem to like your sister? She's beautiful and quiet! She's probably so sweet too! I mean, come on! All quiet girls are incredibly sweet!"

That was when Belarus snapped. She stood up in a swift motion, throwing the chair out from beneath her and across the room. She slammed one hand on the desk and the other reached towards Russia.

It didn't take long for Russia to sense the anger seeping out of the Belarusian woman. He couldn't move in time though. He tried but it was no use, her hand caught up with him quickly.

But, much to his surprise, she didn't touch him. She went completely past the Russian man, and she grabbed the American's wrist off her brother's shoulder. She grabbed it gently and America didn't seem to understand what was going on. He even felt himself blush lightly as she softly and gently slid her hand down and fit it perfectly around his. She gently caressed the back of his hand.

Then the beginning of a long and torturous relationship between the two of them began. Her expression became filled with hatred that was fueled by the love for her brother. Her twilight blue eyes became ice daggers, fixated on eliminating a certain American male that stood before her.

She began to crush the fingers that she held with her own hand. In only seconds, two of them had broken. America bit his tongue as he tried to pull his hand free without screaming. He didn't want to make a fool of himself since, after all, he was the hero. That was hard for him though, he didn't understand what he'd done to piss her off and he was feeling an insane amount of pain shooting through his hand.

Russia cried out, since this was happening right while he was in the middle of them, "Sestra! Stop this now!"

It was only because her brother asked that she released the American's now throbbing fingers from her grip of death. All of his fingers were now broken. No, broken was an understatement. Each finger was crushed, cracked out of shape, and swollen.

America quickly cradled his reddening fingers in his other hand and he shot a glare at Russia and Belarus, not understanding the reason he got hurt. Belarus, noticing his cluelessness, quickly explained to him in the most demonic and scratchy voice she could muster in order to terrify him as best she could, "If you ever lay a hand on big brother again…" Her lips began to twist into a malicious grin, "I'll tear your heart out with my bare hands!"

Russia paled as the images of his darling little sister ripping the heart of America out with her hands flashed through his mind. America too began to see these images.

America reacted differently than his Russian friend though. Instead of becoming pale in the face, he bolted from the room as fast as he could. Maybe it was his fear that drove him to leave in such a manner, or maybe it was his fingers that he was now beginning to realize needed care quickly.

Belarus wasn't worried either way. He wouldn't touch her brother again. He wouldn't tell what had happened either. It wouldn't help his reputation of hero if he went around telling people that Russia's younger sister had caused him great pain.

Belarus quickly turned to her brother and smiled sweetly, "Now, let's go home, Rasija!" She quickly snatched Russia's hand with her own and began to drag the terrified Russian man from the meeting room.

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><p>America didn't go to a hospital or to anyone for help with his hand. He went straight to his home. He barely got the door behind him closed as he ran to the kitchen. He put a plug into the drain of the sink and turned the faucet on. He quickly turned the knob for cold water as far as he could without breaking it.<p>

While the sink filled with freezing water, America opened the door to his freezer. He looked at the container with ice. He was going to need to use both hands to carry that to the sink. He pulled the ice box out with his right hand, the unharmed one, until it was about to fall. It was then that he began to use his other hand to grab the box quickly.

He bit his lip to the point where it bled from the pain that shot through his injured hand. He quickly brought the ice box to the sink and dumped all of the ice into the water. After tossing the box over his shoulder he put his hurt hand in the water. He couldn't even feel his hand anymore. It was bad. Really bad.

As he kept his numb hand in the ice water he pulled is cell phone out of his right pocket. He quickly opened it up and found England in his contact list. He was about to press the glowing green call button when his pride stopped him. What would England say? He'd been injured by a _girl_. One that was younger than him no less.

He quickly began thinking of excuses to use to explain what had happened. The one he was fond with was that he'd closed his front door on his hands when rushing home to watch the first Spiderman movie again. Yeah, it was a great excuse. England would believe him and come over to help him. It was all going to turn out perfect.

So he quickly found England's name in his address book and called England.

England answered at the last ring, "Hello?" Before America could even respond he heard the British man should something about a mint bunny eating his scones. He quickly remembered why he never called England. Maybe he should've called his brother instead…

Hearing no reply, England asked again, "Hello? America? Are you there?"

America quickly snapped out of his regretting mind and replied, "Uh, yeah. Hey man, you any good at fixing broken bones? I totally messed up my left hand!"

There was a long, drawn out sigh from England's end of the call and he spoke into the phone, "You idiot… I'll be right over…"

Even though England couldn't see it, America smiled widely, "Thanks man! I'll even give you a hamburger when you get over here!"

England groaned and gagged mentally, those things were revolting. How America stomached hundreds of them each day was beyond him. "Err… No thanks, Alfred… I'd rather not be a burden…" Even if France had no manners when it came to the food they ate earlier that day, England knew better than to stoop to such a level.

America shrugged and nearly dropped his phone in the process, "Suit yourself, bro."

He took the phone away from his ear and clicked the glowing red button that signaled the button to end a call. He returned his phone to its home in his pocket and jumped up onto the counter while he waited for England to arrive.

His mind drifted off to places he wished it would never go. His mind drifted to Russia and his pretty, but scary as hell, little sister. He mentally swore at himself for thinking of her. Why should he after what she did to him? All for touching Russia. She wasn't worth it.

But even deeper inside of America, past the mind, his heart knew what was happening. He had bad habit for falling for people that were definitely out of his reach. Belarus was _positively_ out of his reach. She was undeniably insane. She loved her brother way too much. She was probably going to murder him one day. So why should he begin to even like her? She had no right to be on his mind.

But he couldn't ignore it. She wasn't like the other female countries he'd met before. None of the single ones, anyway. Hungary could've matched her easily but she belonged to Austria and wouldn't betray him for anything.

Most of the female countries that America had met were quiet and kind. They kept to themselves and only spoke when spoken to. Belarus wasn't a thing like that. She was quiet, that he couldn't deny, but she wasn't kind. She was far from it. She _always_ had some weapon or another on her person somewhere. She was very demanding and expected to get exactly what she asked for. She wasn't afraid to spill someone's blood either. She used foul language if she was angry. Even Hungary would draw a line at some point. Swearing was definitely the line for Hungary. She couldn't match Belarus by much.

But that's what made Belarus intriguing. She was from a powerful family and was, as noted before, very powerful herself. She'd put up a huge struggle if America tried to claim her as his. We've all seen how that's worked out for Lithuania, and Belarus and himself weren't starting off on the right foot. To be precise, they tripped and fell down a long flight of stairs.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock at the door. It was strong and the knock echoed through his home.

He didn't want to pull his hand out from the water so he called out to who he assumed was England, "Yo! Come on in, dawg!"

The door opened in a very creaky manner and there was the clacking of footsteps on the ground nearing the kitchen. They sounded different than the shoes England normally wore but he shrugged it off. That was, until a certain blonde stepped into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

America's blue eyes widened when he saw the blonde step into the room. It wasn't the blonde he wanted. This blonde wore a dress and kept a ribbon in her hair. She had boobs. She was a girl. Definitely not England, definitely not the one he wanted to show up.

She had no weapon as far as he could see. Both her hands were in front of her, holding one another. That didn't mean she didn't have a weapon though. America figured she had lots of places to keep them hidden on her. He wouldn't expect her to go somewhere unarmed.

The Belarusian woman's face was calm. She managed to keep her emotions in check as her eyes displayed no sort of emotion to him at all. Her lips didn't smile or frown.

America tried his best to look calm but Belarus saw in his eyes that he was afraid. He managed to control his voice at the least though, "Why are you here?" His voice trailed off near the end, he could only show so much bravery.

Without an answer the Belarusian woman began to walk over to the American. He pulled his hand out of the ice water and quickly jumped off the counter. He'd risk his hand if it meant saving his life.

She was coming from the only entrance in the kitchen. America didn't know if he'd be able to run by her in time to get out of his house before she, assumedly, murdered him.

In the blink of an eye, he took off running towards the Belarusian blonde. His feet swiftly took turns lightly touching the floor before being pulled up into the air again. He slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to see if see if she pulled a knife out on him while he attempted to save his life.

The blond Belarusian woman underestimated the American and quickly stepped in front of him to push him back. She assumed that because of all the junk food he ate day in and day out, he'd be weak. She couldn't have been any more wrong though.

America didn't see her move in front of him and he stumbled onto her. Belarus realized her mistake when she fell onto the grown on her butt and back with a certain American man falling on top of her.

America opened his eyes to see Belarus beneath him, groaning in pain from the impact. It took him a moment to realize what he'd done, and as he realized that he was beyond dead for this, he felt a blush creep up onto his face.

When Belarus opened her eyes to find the blonde American on top of her, she too felt her cheeks become red with embarrassment. However, she quickly overcame that feeling and made the blush vanish by becoming angry, "You stupid Amerikan!" She reached her hands up and pushed on America's chest, trying to get him off of her.

He quickly moved his body off of her, falling onto his ass almost immediately. He was now against some cabinets that were beneath the kitchen sink. The blue eyed blonde could see the kitchen exit only a few feet away.

It was no use though. Belarus soon stepped between the exit and the America. She reached up her dressed and took a knife from its home between her thigh and garter. When her dress fell back down over her knee she looked at the American to find him staring with a red streak over his face. He had watched her the entire time.

It angered her further that he seemed not to care for his life. Surely he knew that by doing something so stupid like watching her lift her dress would end with his life being removed from the world.

She took a few steps closer to America and got down on one knee and leaned in close to him. With a thick Russian accent, she swore into his ear, "You're a damn capitalist вырадак." She drew her hand back and then proceeded to roughly hit his cheek with the back of her hand. His head roughly turned to the left from the harsh impact of the back of her gloved hand.

She got back onto both of her feet and stepped away from him. She allowed him a moment to recover from the impact as she began to remove the gloves from her petite hands.

He turned his head up towards her, his eyes narrowed with hatred. That's right; she was a cold hearted bitch. How could he have had those thoughts of finding her attractive? There was a red hand shaped mark on the right side of his cheek that was slowly beginning to show signs of becoming a bruise. She wasn't a woman he wanted to mess around with.

He struggled to his feet, only having trouble standing because he could only use one hand to pull his body up off the floor with. His left hand was completely useless now. At least he couldn't feel the pain from his hand. If only that was the same for his face.

He leaned on the counter and stared at the woman as she examined her knife. She didn't look at him while she spoke, "This is a brand new knife… I've been meaning to test it…" She slowly rose her head to face the American man, "What made you think you could touch my older brother?"

America cleared his throat and did his best to look at her face and not the silver knife she was playing with in her hand, "I'm friends with your brother. Friends are allowed to touch each other's shoulders eve-"

He cut her off and raised her voice, "Not one single person is allowed to touch my brother except me!" Her eyes were wide and full of rage.

This made America jump. She'd been able to make her voice sound terrifying before but the entire time it was done while remaining quiet. This was the first time he'd heard her raise her voice.

His voice was now getting quieter, it was nearing a whisper, "Iggy's on his way… He'll tell someone if you hurt me… He won't even let you try hurting me…" He couldn't help but let his voice fade after each sentence he spoke. He was nearing what could possibly be his last moments alive.

The grin on her face grew wider, "The English man shouldn't be hard to persuade with the right amount of force. If all else fails, he'll end up just like you."

America just stood there, mouth agape, in shock. Touching her brother upset her, okay, he understood that much. But it upset her enough to want to harm people? That was crazy, wrong, psychotic, and some other adjective that escaped the American's mind due to circumstances he was currently in.

"Please," he began, "Just let me go unharmed. I won't touch Russia again, and I won't tell anyone of what happened."

A cold, heart puncturing laugh escaped her perfect lips, "Of course you won't. Because I'm going to cut your tongue out so that no one can be told." Her tongue slid out from her mouth and ran over her lips in a seductive but terrifying fashion.

A shiver went through America's body. He hated begging, it was certainly _not_ something a hero should do after all, but he was beginning to consider it.

The cruel Belarusian woman pulled her knife back over her head to strike the trembling American, but she was stopped quickly by a shout. It was a man's voice and it had a strong British accent. "What the bloody hell is going on here?" The two nineteen year olds quickly turned their heads to the entrance of the kitchen to find a certain blonde with thick eyebrows. It was none other than the man who raised the hero himself, England, coming to save the day.

The sigh of relief America let out could be heard from outside the house. He was saved.

Belarus stayed silent when she saw that England was not done speaking. This time, however, his words were directed to the man he once took care of so long ago, "I came rushing over here because I was told you hurt your hand severely. I shrugged off the fact that you couldn't swallow your pride enough to go to a bloody hospital but this?" He shook his head in disbelief, "To think your pride was so much more important than saying "Hey, England the brave, I sort of pissed off a bunch of Soviet Unionists. Think you could come save me?" I'm not even prepared to help you fight off an angry woman!" He breathed out a drawn out, dramatic sigh, "Of all the times to be stupid."

Belarus was feeling entertained by this. She wouldn't have minded if he went on insulting the American man for the rest of the evening.

The British man stopped talking though, giving either Belarus or America a chance to explain themselves. America, however, didn't feel like explaining. Instead, he only mumbled, "I didn't piss of a bunch of them… only one…"

England couldn't believe what he was hearing. He ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance, "Really? What did you do? I thought I taught you better than to upset a lovely lady."

His head dropped. On top of nearly being killed, he was being lectured. Lectured! At a time like this! His voice could only grow softer, "I only touched her brother… I didn't even expect her to come attack me at my home…"

Belarus took pleasure in knowing that she'd destroyed most of the American man's pride and cocky attitude. She began to decide that the mental harm she inflicted onto the man was enough damage.

She stepped away from America and slowly began to change her face back into a state of neutrality. She lifted her dress again, knowing that this time America wouldn't be so stupid as to try watching again, and returned her knife to its spot between her thigh and garter. Her dress then fell back down over her knee.

England was also a gentleman and knew better than to watch. He had stared at the broken American the entire time. The blonde woman turned to face the American as well, "Stay away from my brother or I'll do something much worse to you."

America could only nod silently as the woman walked past England, taking her leave of what she thought was a wretched place. She hoped to never come back to this place for as long as she lived. This was expected to be a long time.

The woman thought about returning to her home in Belarus but decided against it. After all this threatening to harm, all she wanted to do was see her older brother. Perhaps she'd bring up marriage again. If she kept on being persistent, he would be sure to give in soon, right? Right.

Her mind was made up and she began to head towards her older Russian brother's home. She hoped everyone would stay away from them both tonight. Especially Lithuania. She really wasn't interested in seeing his smiling, blushing face. He needed to get over her. He needed to realize that she was only interested in and meant for one person, Russia.

As she approached Russia's home, she took the time to stop and notice an area that was cleared of snow. Well, mostly cleared, the freshly falling snow was beginning to recover the area. There was dirt that seemed to have been moved around in weird patterns. She wondered if her brother had done it. In the back of her mind, she began to remember the vague voice of her brother saying that he wanted to grow a sunflower garden one day. Perhaps that's what this was.

She stopped focusing on the possibility of it being her brother's new sunflower garden and walked up to the door of his home. She was about to let herself in when she was stopped. Someone walked up from behind her and quickly covered her mouth with his hand, and pulled both her hands behind her back. She was quickly taken away from the front door of her brother's home.

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><p><em>AN: The word in Belarusian when she called America a "damn capitalist" was supposed to be Bastard but when you translate it from Belarusian back to English it says Freak so you can decide which one she was calling America._


	3. Chapter 3

England sighed and sat the American man he raised down in a chair, "Honestly, I thought I taught you better than to mess around with women like her. It won't end well."

America just quietly stared down at his lap while England put together a bag of ice for his swelling cheek. Something about the woman he'd just encountered couldn't leave his mind. He couldn't figure out what it was about her either. He wasn't focusing on how she'd just harmed him. He was focusing on how different and unique she was compared to the other lady like female nations.

Something cold was pressed against his cheek and it sent chills down his back, stopping only halfway down. He looked up to see England looking down at him with concern, "You seem out of it. What's wrong?"

America took the bag of ice from England's hand and pressed it on his swollen cheek himself, "Nothing, I'm just thinking, that's all."

England stepped back from America and reached across the table for the kit he had brought with him to help patch up America, "I don't want to see you get hurt. At mean, I don't want to see you get hurt anymore than you _deserve_."

America's neck shot his head towards England, "That's cold, bro!" England pulled a bottle of pills out from the kit and popped open the cap, not looking at the American man while he responded, "It's not cold if I'm being honest. If you're going to hurt someone, you should expect to be hurt back ten times worse."

The American blonde just rolled his blue eyes at the logic the older man used. What the hell did he know about what happened anyways? He refused to listen to the American when he said that he'd done absolutely nothing wrong, so he had no right to judge him this way.

England poured the pills in his hand. He set two of them aside and dropped the rest back into the bottle. After replacing the cap and returning the bottle to the kit, he turned to America, "Put the ice bag down."

The American looked at the English man in disbelief, "Excuse me?" England sighed; he didn't want to be here all day dealing with America's stupidity. He repeated himself and slowed his voice down to a rude level, "Put. The. Ice. Bag. Down."

America shook his head, "No way!" The ice bag was removing the pain he felt from being slapped as hard as he was. England even gave it to him to help.

England groaned out of annoyance, and he made sure America could hear the annoyance. "Why not? Can't you just listen to me for once in your life instead of being such a stubborn mule?"

America's lips shaped into a pout, "But it feels good and it's stopping my pain! You're so mean! You didn't even tell me _why_ I had to put the ice bag down."

England's green eyes flickered with even more annoyance. He knew that the American was an absent minded person, but he couldn't believe just how daft he actually was. "You're hand, America," he began, his voice thickly coated with the frustration he was feeling towards the blonde, "It's hurt. I'm not pushing tablets into your mouth."

America's turned his head downward to look at the left hand that had been crushed in a death grip only hours before. It was peacefully resting on his lap. He couldn't even feel it anymore, so he forgot about it completely.

With an overly cheerful laugh, as if it would get rid of the irritation he caused the British man, he put the ice bag down and absent mindedly inattentively scratched the back of his head with that hand, "Oh! I totally knew that, man! No way would I forget that someone crushed my left hand! For sure!"

England just breathed out a sigh and handed America the pills. America accepted them into his hand but didn't actually take them. He just stared at the English man, as if expecting him to do something.

When he received no response from the United Kingdom, he opened his mouth to speak and used the whiniest voice he could pull off, "Duuuuuuude!" He drew out the vowels in exaggeration for as long as he could, so that by the end of it, he was gasping for his breath that he had lost.

England gave America a look that showed his anger and annoyance, "What is it now?" He'd felt he'd already done enough by coming over to help America, but clearly, America was still in need of special attention.

America twisted his lips into his impression of an adorable little pouting puppy and used another whiny voice, "Englaaaaaand… I can't take pills without a glass of water!"

England breathed out a small sigh and walked over to the cabinets that he knew had glasses. After grabbing a glass, he stepped over to the sink to begin filling it with water. He made a sarcastic comment, "Would you like me to pick up a hamburger from McDonalds for you too, master?"

America's eyes lit up brightly like fireworks on the fourth of July. His voice became filled with excitement; he probably would've jumped out of his chair if he hadn't slammed his bad hand on the table, sending excruciating pain up his arm. It didn't take him long to recover though, "Would you really, Iggy? Oh, man, you're the best!"

England turned his head and shot a glare at America, "You really need to learn to read the atmosphere!"

America only developed a blank look on his face as he was once again told to read something he'd never been able to find in a library, "Dude, me and Italy went to the library and searched for hours! I don't think such a book exists! Can we go to McDonalds yet?"

England placed the glass of water down on the table in front of America and fought back the urge to slap the clueless, blonde American right there, "Just take your bloody pills and I'll consider it. "

America's hand firmly grabbed the delicate glass that was filled with the clear liquid. He brought the glass up to his mouth and was about to take a sip when he suddenly put it back down, "bleh!"

England snapped. He grabbed America's arm near his shoulder, "What the hell? You just said you wanted a bloody glass of bloody water! I'm not some servant for you to order around! I'm being kind by coming here to hell your arse!"

America flinched and recoiled away from the rough grip that the British man had on his arm, "I just wanted to have a cup of soda!"

"You said you wanted a glass of water! Not soda!" He snapped back at the younger man he raised.

America sighed and shrunk back into his chair and quietly mumbled with his voice trailing off near the end, "I changed my mind… I want coke…" England looked at him in disbelief, "I don't even think you should take medicine with coke at all!"

America looked up at the English man's green eyes, "I always take medicine with soda! Can I please have some coke? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

England threw his arms up into the air in defeat, "Fine! Only because you're hurt though. You're hurt, I _know_ you can't drive. That is the _only_ reason."

America quickly followed in Britain's motions and threw his hands up into the air, in victory instead of defeat, "Yes! You are the best, man! Well, I mean, you're the best when you're not being a total stick up everyone's asses!"

The United Kingdom shot America a glare to warn him that he'd better not push his luck any further.

America took notice of this glare and kept his mouth closed. Normally he would've pushed on England's buttons until he snapped, but not this time. He was still caught in a bit of shock from what the Belarusian woman had done to him. He didn't want a repeat of that.

England looked at America after calming himself down, "Well? Aren't you going to get up? You did want to go to McDonald's, didn't you?"

A wide and cheerful grin quickly crossed America's face, "Yes! Yes! I do!" he cheered childishly. He stood up quickly and ran over to the English man. Without stopping, America grabbed the United Kingdom's sleeve with his good hand and began dragging him out of the house, "You gotta drive fast, man! Like, really fast! I want to get there now!"

England attempted to yank himself free of the American's grip, but it was no good. The younger male was stronger and had a good grip on him.

He was pulled to America's car, "We'll take mine! It's faster!" The blonde American released his grasp on the British man's shirt and shoved his hand into his jacket pocket. He fished around in the pocket for a while, sometimes throwing pieces of whatever onto the ground because they were no longer of any importance. He pulled out his hand and waved around some keys that had the United State's flag on them. He handed the key to England after quickly unlocking his doors. He jumped into the passenger side and grinned, "Let's go!"

England took his time getting into the American's car. He put the new looking seatbelt on and looked at America, "Put your bloody seatbelt on!" America whined, "That's no fun though!" England glared sternly at America, "I refuse to move this car until you put your seatbelt on." America's blue eyes became filled with annoyance, "But I'll be fine!" England just tapped a finger on the steering wheel of the car as he waited for the younger American to do as he was told.

With a loud and obvious groan of disbelief, the American male pulled the seatbelt over him and clicked it into the slot. England's lips twisted into a smile, "now then, that wasn't so hard, was it?" America sank back into the cushioned car seat and crossed his arms, "humph!"

England turned back to facing the windshield of the car. He pushed the keys into the slot and turned them to get the car started. Then he drove the very stubborn American man to the nearest McDonald's. Of course, he needed help figuring out how to get there since he didn't visit often.

Upon arriving at the McDonald's, America's mood seemed to dampen even further than it already had, "Hey, Iggy?"

The English man turned the car off and looked at America, "Don't tell me you'd rather go to a Burger King. What is it?"

America snapped his head towards England, "Of course I wouldn't! I'm not that picky! Jeez!" He sank back into his seat and avoided looking at the green eyes of the older man again, "how would _you_ get a girl to like you?"

America cringed after he'd heard himself say those words. This was a major blow to his pride, asking England for help. If England knew why he was asking, he'd never live it down. Never.

England's gaze didn't leave the American, even after he had heard the words that were spoken. Had he heard America right? Was the American blonde actually asking him for help with getting a girl?

Then he laughed. That made America become increasingly self conscious quickly. America had been dead serious about his question. Belarus wasn't the kind of girl he could get without help. It was bad enough that he'd been even considering it, but now that England was laughing at him about it, he wanted to punch someone and hard.

He cursed at himself for finding the hard to get women to be the most attractive. It wasn't fair. It certainly wasn't smart either.

He shot his head towards the English man, "What the hell is so funny?" He shouted loudly, "I was being completely serious!"

England didn't flinch or recoil at the shouting, instead, he gathered himself and looked at America very seriously, "Listen to me. Listen to me like you've never listened before. Do _not_ go fooling around with that girl. Nothing good can or will come out of it. Do you understand me?"

With a silent nod, America bolted out of the car to avoid further discussion on this topic. Besides, he really wanted a Big Mac and a large coke now.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I totally avoided talking about Belarus and her kidnapper this chapter on purpose :I Any guesses on who kidnapped her?~ Who would have the balls to kidnap her? Hmmmmm?_


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the kicking and muffled screaming that Belarus did, her kidnapper still managed to get her away from her brother's home and into some new place. She still couldn't see to know her kidnapper and view her surroundings. She was still blindfolded. She wasn't tired of putting up a fight, yet, she was used to being a persistent person in many different things, especially violence.

Soon she found herself being thrown onto something soft that felt similar to a bed. She squirmed around and her wrists struggled against the robes that bound and burned her wrists. Whoever had the balls to kidnap her was about to lose them in a few moments. The moment she got free, she was determined to use whatever she could find as a lethal weapon.

Her kidnapper quickly tied her ankles together to prevent her from trying to kick him. The man reached down towards the woman who he'd thrown onto his bed and pulled the blindfold off of her pale skinned face. The woman looked up at her kidnapper with her twilight eyes. Her mouth still had tape on it and her hands were still tied behind her back with a rope so that she was still unable to attack him.

Her capturer had deep blue eyes that stared down at her. He had wavy blond hair that went down to his chin in length. He wore a blue outfit and quickly bowed with a deep, blood red rose in his mouth, "we've arrived at our destination, mademoiselle."

Belarus's eyes widened when she saw who her kidnapper was. The thoughts that ran through her mind were terrifying. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to stab the French man, skin him, take pieces of his skin and cut them into cheese sized pieces, put said pieces into a toaster, burn those pieces into something entirely unrecognizable, like ashes, throw said toaster into a tub of water whilst plugged in, and leave the house forever.

She began to struggle even more now that she knew her kidnapper was none other than the notorious France. She just looked like a fish though. She really couldn't do anything with her hands tied behind her back like this.

At one point in the woman's struggles, weapons fell from their spots in her garter. France took this as an opportunity to reach up her dress. His hands skillfully slid up her smooth leg and began removing the weapons that the woman always carried on her. This enraged the woman even more.

When he removed his hands from inside her dress and returned his eyes to her face, he spoke with such a nonchalant voice that the stare Belarus gave him in return would've been enough to kill an army, "Now mademoiselle, I don't think that it's a good idea to keep such dangerous weapons in that area."

The blonde woman only continued to glare at him, wishing that her eyes could murder him.

The male of the two blondes reached his hand out towards the woman again, this time going for her head. She gently ran his fingers through her silky blond hair and watched as they fell onto the bed that she laid on. When he spoke, his voice was smoother, "I'm here to…" He paused and took in a sharp breath, "Offer you some advice." A grin spread across his lips.

This wasn't a good sign. The blonde woman knew better than anyone that this was definitely and positively _not_ a good sign. No one got cocky around her. If they did, there was no doubt that they had something up their sleeve waiting to enter the playing field. To make matters worse, this was _France_. The man never did anything for others unless he was sure he was going to get something out of it; said something was usually something _sexual_.

However, as the French man continued to speak, and the Belarusian listened, she never heard him say anything of wanting anything in return. In his thick accent he spoke, "It's just advice on how to get your brother to love you." This made Belarus listen closer. It involved her brother finally loving her. Her beautiful, handsome, strong, courageous, and powerful brother would finally love her! The French man was a master at love! She was listening with strong ears now.

The blonde French man went on with his seemingly selfless scheme, "Have you ever tried making him jealous? Especially with someone he hates?" Within moments, Belarus had names flying through her mind. Which one would piss off her brother the most? Who would absolutely anger him?

As much as she hated it to admit it, and she'd _never_ admit it, one name stuck in her mind; America. The two of them had had a strained friendship ever since the Cold War. It'd be a bit easier since America had suggested a bit of interest in her when he called her "beautiful" and "sweet" back at the last meeting.

France had noticed that she stopped paying attention long ago. He took the tape off of her mouth, "Now then, what do you say to someone who helped you out?"

Instead of giving the traditional "thank you" to the French man who had helped her out, even if it was in a rude way, she spoke with harsh words in her Russian accent, "Untie me, you шлюха."

France didn't know what this word had meant, but he did know that she only used her language to others if she was angry. Not wishing to endanger himself any further than he already had, he untied the woman and stepped away with a grin.

The woman stood up and gathered her weapons quickly. The nineteen year old looked at France, "What do you have to gain from this, шлюха?" That thought couldn't leave her wintery mind. She knew France didn't do anything without receiving a benefit. Everyone knew this. He wasn't a giving man.

Quickly, the French man's expression changed to one of hubris. He quickly flipped his waving blond hair back over his shoulder with his slender hand, "Oh? You think I want something in exchange?"

The blonde woman merely stared at him without amusement. The French man just shook his head with a sigh under her painful stare, "I just think this will be an amusing show. That's all I want."

The woman wondered if she should believe this or not. Deciding it was best not to question him any further, thus deciding against what she felt she needed to do, she quickly ran towards the door and from the room. She'd get him back later. For now, she had a plan that needed scheming.

Upon exiting the room, she found that she had been taken to a nearby hotel. The words under the pictures that hung on the walls were in Russian. 'Good,' she thought to herself, 'I'm still in Russia.' It would've been problems if she had been taken away from the snow ridden country. She could stay at her brother's place for the time being as she came up with how to do this.

She walked out of the hotel lobby and didn't even close her eyes when the piercing daggers of snowflakes struck her face and anywhere that she had bare skin showing. This, to her, was amazing. This was home. This was his brother's protection. She walked off in the snow, not feeling cold at all, to the home of her brother.

* * *

><p>She walked into the room her brother let her stay in while she was at his house. It was very simple; a bed, a desk, and a place to keep her weapons. There was also a closet with clothes for her.<p>

She sat down on her bed and thought about her short and small interactions with America. They had all ended with him fearing her. She sighed out a long sigh. Suddenly, this plan seemed to have many holes in it.

Belarus stood up and sighed. She gracefully exited her room and walked down the hallway. She picked up the phone that hung on her brother's hallway wall. Her fingers swiftly dialed the number of her sister. It was a few moments before there was a shaky voice answering on the other side, "Алло?"

Belarus answered without hesitation, "Добры дзень, сястра."

Ukraine recognized the Belarusian quickly and her voice quickly became cheerful, "Oh! Сестра!" It had been some time since she heard her younger sister call her. She wasn't even sure why she was being called by her sister. She had been nervous about answering the phone because of the fact that the number said it was coming from her brother's house. She'd been doing her best to avoid talking to him to make their separation easier on both of them. That being said, she deeply missed her younger brother.

Now, it was Belarus's turn to have a change of tone. Her voice went from its usual strong sound to a bit quieter sounding, "Cястра? How do you make a guy you like to like you if you scare him?" Belarus bit her lip on her end of the line. She managed to pierce her lip and draw blood from the tiny wound. She was nervous. She'd never acted so weak before. She had to keep telling herself that this was for the sake of her brother's love.

The nation with vast lands was also surprised by the sudden weakness of her younger sister. She'd never thought her sister would come to her for help for anything. "Well," she began, "Who is it you're trying to impress?"

This was where the Belarusian blonde felt the need to sit down. She was unsure that her legs could hold her up for long. She was also worried that she wouldn't be able to keep them in place if she felt the need to sink her knife into some sort of flesh in order to see warm, red oozing liquid. Her voice, regrettably, shook as she replied to her sister, "America."

Suddenly, Ukraine felt less sure about helping her younger sister out. What was she doing playing around with someone that her brother had a bone to pick with? This couldn't end well. Then again, nothing that Belarus was ever involved in ever ended well.

She calmed herself before speaking to her younger sister. She didn't know what she was scheming, but there may have been a chance that she was seriously reconsidering forcing herself onto Russia. She couldn't jeopardize that for the sake of her younger siblings' happiness.

She spoke softly and sweetly, "Speak kindly to him. That means _no _threats…" She never approved of Belarus's demanding and threatening personality. "Don't carry weapons around him. Ever." This angered Belarus a bit. She couldn't carry weapons? The only thing that made her feel safe?

Still determined to go through with this plan, seeing as many of her other plans failed, she did her best to hide the anger she felt and prevent it from seeping into her voice, "Is there anything else?"

Even though Belarus couldn't see the short haired blonde, she nodded on her end of the line, "Yeah. Do what he wants to do. Open up to him and show him a reason to like you."

The younger, platinum blonde girl was a bit shocked that her sister could give such advice, but she was thankful nonetheless. She knew this would be a difficult mission, as she called it, and she was prepared to do it. Her brother was worth it. Russia was worth it.

The silence startled Ukraine, and she whispered into the phone, "Сестра?"

Belarus heard the worry seeping from Ukraine's voice and into the phone, "Sorry. I am still here. I was thinking. Thank you, сястра."

There was a cheerful giggle from the Ukrainian woman, "It's so cute to think about! My little sister has finally gotten over her crush on her brother and likes someone else!" Her words stung Belarus deeply, but she'd never say that. Her older sister was someone she couldn't help but love.

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, they hung up, and Belarus began to set her plan in motion.

* * *

><p><em>Oh god it's about time, isn't it? I am <strong>so<strong> tired right now. Sorry I haven't updated often, school takes up so much time. That and I've just felt so unmotivated. I don't feel like writing anything period.  
>The guesses I got for Belarus's kidnapper surprised me. They were Russia, Ukraine, and Lithuania. Russia and Ukraine, I guess I understand. Lithuania though. LITHUANIA. Really? Nothing against Lithuania of course, I love his character. I just think he's lacking the guts to kidnap Belarus.<br>Anyways~ Reviews on how I can improve and what I'm doing good so far are always helpful~ Thanks for reading~!_

_Translations:  
>шлюха - whore<br>Алло? - Hello?  
>Добры дзень, сястра - Hello, sister.Сестра - Sister<em>


	5. Chapter 5

The Belarusian woman stepped out of her brother's house and into the icy cold snow that hit her face. She was done with her brother; this was only temporary though, of course. The moment she had Russia jealous, she'd leave America and she and her brother could live together forever, just like in the fairytales that the American man showed in his own country.

She walked down the walkway of the tall, yellow house in the snow. The snow was deep and went up to her knee. She had nothing but her stocking between her legs and knees. It was cold, and it stung her a bit, but she had come to know and accept General Winter's abilities. He did, after all, protect her brother with them.

She dragged her feet through the snow slowly, leaving long trails behind her, indicating where she had step.

She was dragging a blue suitcase with her. She would pretend to travel to America for a business trip and get to know him along the way. Yes, that is what she'd do. She had managed to book a flight that left in two hours before she left her brother's house. She'd find a hotel to stay at once she got there, or, perhaps, she'd go to America and personally request a room to stay in during her stay. She could deceive him easily, and if that failed to work, she always had the option of bargaining; his life for a room to stay in. A wide grin fell upon the notorious Belarusian Blonde's lips.

She had not told her brother where she was going. She did not need to. If he cared, and the woman was sure he would, he'd come find her and take her away to a field of sunflowers where they'd be married.

Belarus walked a few blocks away from her brother's home before she stopped. She really didn't want to take a taxi to the airport.

"чорт пабяры," she swore at herself. Why did the American man return to his country so early? It would've been so much easier to just get a car ride from him to the airport.

No. She quickly shook her head free from those thoughts. Why on earth would she think that it was a good idea to actually ride in the same car as the capitalist? She needed to pull herself together and remember that she was only doing this to make her brother realize just how much he missed her and needed her. That's right. That's all it was.

There weren't even any taxis around here. She'd have to walk into a larger populated area of Moscow. What a pain in the ass this was.

Slowly, Belarus trudged through the snow to her destination. She barely picked up each foot for each step; she found it easier to just drag them.

* * *

><p>It was just the blonde woman's luck, or perhaps not, that a familiar face had found her and offered to take her to the airport before she got too far on her own feet in the cold. Now, she sat in the backseat of a Frenchman's car. The blonde man drove the car to the airport, stating that he too had business going to America. The Belarusian didn't listen to most of it. She just zoned out and thought about what was lying ahead for her and her plan.<p>

It wasn't long before he noticed that she wasn't listening and turned on some CD he had in his car. France began singing along to Anggun's Echo (You and I). It was the song that was representing France in the upcoming Eurovision Song Contest.

Belarus was in absolutely no mood to listen to some pathetic French music. She was especially in no mood to listen to France's entry in the upcoming contest. It was pathetic and she despised it. She was more interested in her contest entry. If they were going to listen to music at all, especially Eurovision music, it would have to come from her own country. She leaned up to the front of the car from the backseat and ejected the disk. She snapped it in half right before the blonde's eyes.

His eyes widened, "Qu'avez-vous fait?" His voice shook with hurt that the Belarusian woman couldn't tell if it was fake or real. Either way, she did not care. She didn't understand the French he spoke at all.

She spoke gruffly to the blonde who paid too much attention to how he appeared, "If we listen to music, it comes from my country." France gulped. Something told him that the music from Belarus's country would be some kind of music similar to the disgusting rock that America and England listened to. It wasn't something dignified like the music from his own country. There was absolutely no way he'd listen to something like that.

He shook his head at the aggressive woman, "Then we ride in silence."

With a "humph" she slid back into the back seat. She wasn't buckled in with a seatbelt. They restricted her movement and didn't allow her to attack quickly enough if the need to fight came.

* * *

><p>After the silent drive to the airport, Belarus managed to secure a ticket on the same flight to America as France. She would've preferred to fly on a different flight and not with the Frenchman, but not alone. She wanted to be with someone she knew when she entered the new country. She'd only ever been to America for meetings, and during those times she was with her brother and sister on the plane. This was an all new experience.<p>

She traded her seat with someone who was kind to sit beside France. The man took the window seat. He went off on some nonsense that he needed the window seat so he could look at his reflection with clouds in the background. He also mentioned something about not wanting to sit in the aisle when small children could roam around freely and get his clothes dirty.

Belarus cared not about the things that he did. If she did, she could easily stab him and take the seat as her own, but she didn't.

France had told her that America was currently staying in his home in New York. The flight time would take around seven hours assuming they didn't run into any bad weather. Both of the blondes could only pray to the gods they believed in that the time together would go quickly so that they could get to the ones they wanted to visit.

Early in the flight, France had begun to get restless. It wasn't even thirty minutes into it when he began to order some wine. He drank that quickly, and he soon ordered more. It surprised Belarus at the rate he was drinking them. Almost as soon as one glass was empty, it was filled right away.

At one point, the stewardess began to notice that he appeared to be slipping into a drunken state. She tried to advise him to slow down his drinking, and she even tried to prevent him from ordering another one, but it didn't work. Instead, she found herself giving into the man's flirting and poured him glass after glass.

He tried to talk to the Belarusian woman. He tried to talk to her as friend, and then he made an attempt to flirt with her. She made nothing of it though and ignored his pathetic attempts to get under her dress.

She ignored his slurred voice that was sprinkled with seductiveness. He finally grew tired of her evading his attempts at conversation and grew touchy; at least, it was Belarus's idea of what touchy was. His lips twisted into a very lopsided grin. Belarus's gloved hand was sitting on the arm rest as she stared forward, refusing to make eye contact with the drunken man. He hovered his hand over hers for a moment before he dropped his hand on hers and tugged off her glove.

The woman's twilight blue eyes were immediately on him and glaring daggers into his soul, "Give that back!"

He laughed and stuck the glove into the front of his pants. He spoke with the slurred, French accented voice again, "You'll have to get it on your own!" he declared quickly.

The woman couldn't believe her eyes. Stupid France had gotten drunk.

"You're drunk," she stated obviously. Most of the passengers had already recognized that the man was drunk.

He let out a slurred, "So?" from his lips. The woman groaned. If she was really going to get her glove back—which she was going to do, there was no way she was leaving it in his pants—she'd have to be just as drunk as him, if not even more so.

She called down the aisle of the plane, "Miss!" The stewardess quickly walked herself over to Belarus's seat. The woman thought that she had been requested by the man, and that he was just having the maid—she was from America and Belarus was the spitting image of a stereotypical maid—get her attention.

She was very disappointed when she learned that it was the woman requesting her attention. Belarus sternly requested for a glass of straight up vodka. She wanted nothing to wash it down. Her thick Russian accent made the stewardess struggle a little with Belarus's request. However, just as she managed to decipher the slurred French of the man next to her, she deciphered the rough Russian accent of the woman.

The woman brought the drink Belarus had requested and refilled France's glass of wine. They drank it quickly, each trying to drink faster than the other. The stewardess was called to refill their drinks and they repeated it.

It was only after a large number of drinks and the stewardess firmly digging her feet into the ground and refusing to refill their drinks again that they started talking.

Belarus was verbally attacking France. They had taken her knives away at the airport, so all she had were her words, and those were barely understandable. "You're just a-a plotting bastard, you know that?" She hiccupped before continuing, now adding Belarusian words into her speaking, "What the пекла are you planning to do in Амерыка anyways?"

He couldn't keep his secret any longer. It wasn't because he just didn't like hiding, oh no. That was easy for him to do, for he kept secrets all the time. He was just too drunk to be in his right mind to keep the secret. He grinned that lopsided grin again before answering, "I-I'll tell you what I'm going there for, Mademoiselle." He leaned back on the wall of the plane that had the window before bolting off of the cold metal. He relaxed himself before continuing, "And I'll tell you why I want you to get your mignon petit cul to Amérique while I am at it." He grinned, "I'm after my Angleterre, you see, and I need you to get Amérique out of the picture." He let that sink into Belarus's mind for a moment.

Once it had sunk in, Belarus opened her small mouth, "So, Англія and I are both going to crush Амерыка сэрца?" France gave her a look that plainly said, "Speak English, woman." She breathed out a long, overdramatic sigh, "England and I will both be crushing America's heart then?"

France raised one of his blonde eyebrows, "I understand how you will crush his heart when you return to Russia, but how will my Angleterre crush his heart?"

Belarus wanted to slap this man. Was he really just that stupid? "When America tries to return to England after I'm through with him, he won't be able to because you'll have him. Does your патэтычна head understand yet?"

France let out his signature laugh, and he let it out loud. This was amusing. The poor American probably wouldn't have the balls to be a hero after they were through with him. This would be oh so much more fun than he thought!

That had really been the end of their conversation though. They both had begun to sober up quickly. Belarus never did retrieve her glove, but France removed it and gave it to her. He swore over and over that it had never gone inside his underwear, but most of the nations knew that France went it commando most days. She couldn't bring herself to touch her glove, and just left it on her lap where it soiled her dress. Now, if only the flight would pick up the pace.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Oh my bog! It has bee FOREVER, and I apologize for that!<br>My excuses, accept them or not, are as follows: I was very sick. I had writers block. I've been piled up with homework.  
><em>_I hope it's good! I started writing this with a plan in mind, but then it went off in a whole new direction! I loved writing it though!  
>I also wrote this while listening to pony music!<br>__Translations:  
>чорт пабяры = dammit<br>Qu'avez-vous fait? = What did you do?  
>пекла = hell<br>Амерыка = America  
>Mademoiselle = Miss<br>mignon petit cul = cute little ass  
>Amérique = America<br>Angleterre = England  
>Англія = England<br>Амерыка сэрца = the heart of America  
>патэтычна = pathetic<br>__Hmm... I think that's all I need to say... UNTIL NEXT TIME~ C: _


	6. Chapter 6

For the most part, the rest of the plane ride to America was quiet. The chit chatting that had been done while France and Belarus were drunk had slowly faded into silence as they sobered out. The two never really liked each other's company anyways. They'd rather be without it. But as it was said earlier, Belarus would prefer to ride beside France rather than beside total strangers.

She managed to convince herself that it could've been worse. Sober France was silent and left her alone, just as she did to him. It could've been Poland though. He would talk nonstop, sober or otherwise. The annoying Poland would get all pouty if she didn't respond to him too. Yes, it was better that it was France she rode beside.

* * *

><p>New York was cold this time of year, Belarus soon discovered. Not as cold as Russia's home, but surely it was close. She didn't know, nor did she care. Cold was just cold.<p>

France decided that he'd be checking into a hotel for the first few nights here, but not before Belarus convinced him, using the persuasiveness that she'd been perfecting for the longest time, to give him America's address. She wouldn't care if it was one in the morning; she would be visiting him immediately.

How she would get there, though, was another story all together. She hadn't thought of that at all. She was still completely unprepared. Honestly, all she was prepared to do was fall down and fall asleep.

That thought caused a shudder to flow through the Belarusian. America's homeland was already causing thoughts she never really experienced before. Even during the most tiring days of chasing down the wonderful Russian man she called her true love, she still had never felt like she would just fall down and sleep anywhere. Such feelings could only be caused by the lazy, greasy food eating people of America. They must've been emitting such an awful thing. The sooner she was done here, the better.

The next thing she did was sit down on the closest metal bench. Oh lord, she felt like she sat down on a thick sheet of ice. If only she knew how to get around, she could be at America's house already. She knew he, at the very least, didn't enjoy cold so much as Russia did.

By absolute luck, or perhaps fate, whatever you'd like to believe in, France happened to be driving by Belarus on the way to his hotel. His upper lip twitched up to reveal a ghastly grin. Surely, being the gentleman that he was, he couldn't leave a most lovely woman such as Belarus alone in the cold. That was absolutely right. He'd do the gentlemanly thing, pull over, and assist her into the warmth of his hotel.

So, that's what he did. The tires of his rental car slid a bit on the slick slush of the snow covered roads as he pulled up to the sidewalk where the blonde sat. The glass keeping him safe from the icy winds was rolled down, sending a sharp cold into his car and a chill up his spine.

It didn't faze him for long though, and he managed to call out, his French accent sliding off his tongue in an unintentionally seductive manner, "Oh, Belarus, dear! What're you doing out here in this dreadful weather? Come, I'll take you to my hotel."

The Belarusian's twilight blue eyes rose from her lap and sent glares in the Frenchman's direction. Such a question he dared had the audacity to ask made her want to gag. Had he no respect for anyone?

Ah, but that was such a silly question to ask, wasn't it? Of course the Frenchman had some respect for others. It was only after he'd manage to get them in bed was it that he'd show them respect. Beforehand, everyone was meat at a grocery store waiting to be picked up for dinner.

However, a moment later, the girl was up on her feet that were shin high in snow. She trudged over to the blue car and looked in the window. France waved to her and smiled, almost sincerely (almost being you could only tell that it wasn't sincere if you knew the man yourself). With a sigh, she opened up the passenger side door and got in. She'd already been on a seven hour plane ride with the Frenchman. What could a car ride do to her?

Apparently, a lot.

The car ride was so awful. It was just so full of awkward silence. She stared straight ahead, straight through the windshield of the car, but she could feel the occasional stare of the blasted Frenchman on her.

She was feeling most ecstatic when she was able to exit the car and enter the American air again. At this point, it was starting to seem like a blessing. Ugh. Belarus took a deep breath in and then slowly pushed the air out of her lungs. Just think positively, Natalya, she told herself.

And so, she did.

You're not with America yet. France's stupid hair couldn't get any stupider. France's stupid face is as stupid as it's ever going to get. Big brother will love you. You'll be away from France soon enough. You'll be done in America soon enough. Big brother will love you. You won't have to do so much. Big brother will love you. Big brother will love you. Big brother will love you.

Soon enough, the blonde woman was laughing out loud without realizing it. The silly thing didn't end up catching herself until she caught France's blue eyes staring at her. Not just that, but his expression. It showed… well, perhaps it was his way of showing fear? It hadn't been disgust, but it wasn't a good thing.

Sure enough, the blonde male had been a bit afraid. It wasn't a secret that Belarus wasn't exactly in the best state of mind anymore. Had she ever been? He couldn't remember. It'd been so long since she was a little girl, so sweet and innocent. Oh, she'd been such a gem. She had always been so close to her dear older brother Russia, always wanting to protect him. Her twilight blue eyes had always gleamed happily when he protected her himself.

He even remembered when America used to hang out with her often, always telling others how he considered her to be like a younger sister to him.

He shook his head. This was no time to reminisce about the past! She was a grown woman now, and she was certainly not that innocent anymore. She wasn't innocent in a number of ways. She was a coldhearted, cruel monster. And that was that. Oh, and she had lady parts. Sweet, sweet lady parts.

With a quick smack to his cheek, he told himself to get it together. She was not someone to be with. No sane person would even imagine being with her. _Damn it!_ France swore inside his head. That was just an insult to himself! One second he's thinking about lady parts, and the next he's calling anyone who thinks of her that way out of their mind! _Faire foutre!_

The Belarusian blonde was the one to break the awkward stare they fell into while they'd been immersed in their minds. She pivoted on her right foot, dress flying up with her movements, and began to walk away from the French blonde and into the hotel they'd arrived at.

The heels of her black shoes clacked against the marble floor of the grand hotel lobby as she approached the front desk. Her arms brushed against her dress back and forth as she stepped up to the man working behind the counter.

In a swift motion, her hand slammed against the counter. The sound resonated throughout the spacious room. The man looked up from the desk. His eyes were gray and rather dull. They seemed to stare past the aggressive woman, into some unknown space. His blonde hair was short and messy, as if he'd not brushed it in such a long time.

His deep voice spoke a bit slowly to her, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Belarus was sure that the surprise she felt from the politeness of an American showed on her face. There wasn't a thing she could do to contain it.

So, after a moment of regaining her composure, she answered, "I demand a room for a night."

With a nod, he turned her back to her and scanned a drawer for room keys. After a moment of scanning, he faced her again. He shook his head and told her, a bit quicker now, after having a moment to wake up from a quiet night, "I'm afraid all of the rooms are checked out. We've none available until tomorrow."

A snarl pushed its way past Belarus's lips. Her dainty hand reached towards her knife when someone's cold fingers wrapped around her wrist from behind. A gasp escaped her as she turned around quickly to see who had managed to sneak up on her like that.

At eye level, the twilight blue eyes met someone's leather jacket. As she rose her head further up, her eyes met with other blue ones, blue ones that belonged to a blonde. This wasn't the blonde she'd come here with. This was the one she came here to see.

She felt her cheeks heat up a bit before she yanked her wrist away. She was about to shout at him for sneaking up on her and touching her before she remembered her mission. Instead of raising her rough voice, she turned her head to the left, no longer meeting America's eyes, and whispered, "What're you doing here?"

He dropped his hand to his side and looked at her, wondering if he'd really seen that blush or if it was just his imagination overacting again. England said his imagination overacted a lot. He cleared his throat and turned his head slightly to the right, staring just past her platinum blonde hair into the area behind the counter, "France called me. He said that you came to visit and couldn't get a hotel room."

Her head shot forward again quickly. However, she didn't look at America, she looked straight past him. Her eyes locked onto France who was grinning from behind America. A cold glare shot from her to him. That _вырадак!_ She was going to murder him one day.

America shivered at the hatred that burned into the girl's face. _Well_, he rethought that; _she's not exactly a girl anymore, is she? She's my age. She's nineteen, just like I am. In fact, she's really only a month younger than me. Wow._ America found it so strange that they were the same age. He'd always considered her younger than him. Even though she was violent, he figured that maybe if she'd been protected and loved a little more, she would've been a really nice girl.

Oh, god. If England could read his mind with that strange magic of his, America would be screwed for having such thoughts like that! Oh god, if England found out what he was doing right now, he'd be screwed.

Without even realizing what he was doing, he reached for Belarus's hand. Her glare turned on him before she realized what she was doing, and before he could realize what he was doing, he quickly grinned widely, "Come on! You can stay at my house while you're in America! It'll be great!"

The blonde's glare dropped and in its place, wide eyes remained. She didn't even care that he was touching her anymore. He'd just invited her to stay at his home. _This wasn't part of the plan,_ her mind hissed at her. However, it may be a good opportunity… right?

Another breath was pulled into her lungs as she thought. With an exhale, she looked up at the American and forced a smile, "All right. Let's go to your house."

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><p>Holy. Crap.<br>What's this? Eternity_ FINALLY_ uploaded chapter six?!  
>Yeah. I did.<br>Excuse- I mean, _reasons_ time!  
>So, end of April into the beginning of May, I was in a really bad place in life. It was bad.<br>For eleven days, I had absolutely NO WAY to write.  
>Then, when those eleven days were up, I had no motivation to write.<br>Like, I got out of that bad place, but I just couldn't write for whatever reason. I wanted to, believe me, but every time I opened it up to start, I couldn't. And it wasn't just this story, it was ALL of my writing. I couldn't do any of it.  
>However, I've finished this chapter! I hope to finish a chapter every week for you guys! I'll try my best! Actually, you have my wonderful girlfriend to thank for my motivation to write again XD<p>

Translations:  
><em>Faire foutre! - Fuck!<br>_вырадак! - bastard/freak__

____I hope you all liked this chapter~!

Oh! One more thing! I may go back and edit some later chapters. My writing may have changed (This chapter I went back and forth between lazy and really trying! Sorry! D:), so I kind of wanna change some things. Also, I may not have been entirely consistent. I wasn't paying much attention ^-^" Last thing: I'm taking a Spanish class now! I'm hoping that one day, I'll be able to translate this story into Spanish :3


	7. Chapter 7

Once Belarus had been escorted from the hotel by America, glaring over her shoulder at France, whom she now considered a meddling bastard, France reached his hand into the small left jean pocket, searching for his cell phone. Once it had been successfully retrieved, he flipped it open and quickly dialed a messy haired blonde's number.

Securing his phone between his ear and shoulder, the man took a few steps towards the elevators. The phone rang on both ends for a moment before France's ears heard England's melodic voice chiming through his cell, "Hello?"

France grinned mischievously and stopped walking, "Ah! Angleterre!"

England's teeth bit into his bottom lip as he swore inwardly. He could've sworn he managed to delete his phone number from France's phone at the last meeting!

Speaking through gritted teeth, as kindly as he possibly could to this man, "Oh. Hi, France. What do you want?"

A smirk caressed France's lips. He could hear the struggle England was going through to fight the urge to hang up in his voice. How cute, he was making an effort to speak to the Frenchman.

With a growing smile, he cheerfully asked, "You're still in New York, right? Come have dinner with me! Where are you staying anyways?"

England could've gagged. Ignoring the dinner offer that had been bestowed upon him, the Englishman answered, "I'm staying at America's home."

_Avoiding dinner, eh?_ "Well, all the more reason to have dinner with me! America's bringing a lady friend home. I just spoke with him. Now," France let his voice slip into a seductive tone, just for the extra effect. "You wouldn't want to keep him from her, would you? Surely being the third wheel isn't that fun to you?" France could very easily visualize in his mind the bushy browed blonde blushing on the other end.

Which was pretty accurate. England's face lit up like red Christmas lights at the thought of being home while America was with his, erm, lady friend. Quickly, almost in a panic about America coming home soon, he asked, "Where should I meet you?"

France took his time answering after hearing England's rushed voice, "My hotel has a restaurant that we could go to." When England reluctantly agreed, seeing as how it was a most terrifying thought to be so close to where France slept, France relayed his hotel's address.

They said their farewells, and France snapped his phone shut. He pressed the button on the elevator with the up arrow. Almost immediately, it opened up, allowing him inside. He absolutely just had to change before his Angleterre arrived. Perhaps a cloak would be suited for the night.

As soon as their farewells had been said, England's hand brought his hand and phone into his pocket before rushing off to grab some paper and a pen.

Quickly, in sloppy handwriting that resembled a third grader's writing, he jotted down a note for America. He questioned this act himself. It's not like America would've left a note saying he was going to be gone.

Whatever.

He didn't have time to think about this. He just wanted to get out quickly.

Snatching his coat from the closet, he dashed to the door. His hand reached out to grab the doorknob when suddenly he realized something, what if France was making up this lady friend to get England to go with him on a date?

He could just not go.

_Fuck_, England swore. That wasn't an option. He wasn't so cruel as to stand France up. And then there was always that chance that France had told the truth for once.

England's eyes shifted over to his watch suddenly. Nine P.M. All this thinking was getting to him, and it was late. He could use a drink. Food with it was a bonus.

_France had better be paying._

Shoving his arms through the arm holes of his coat, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. A blast of icy air bit at his face. He ignored it, however, and went to his car. A moment later, he was driving down the street towards France's hotel.

France searched his room for something to wear. England had no sense of fashion, but that wasn't going to stop the French blonde from trying to make an impression.

It didn't take long for France to settle with something simple. He wore a pair of gray jeans and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He tied a black tie very loosely around his neck, and then he was done.

He left his hotel room and went down to the lobby. There was England, sitting on a chair looking absolutely bored out of his mind. England approached him from behind. His hands rested softly on England's shoulders.

England jumped up, surprised that France had managed to sneak up on him. He turned to face France with a glare. The older man just warmly smiled down on him, his bright blue eyes shining happily.

England's green eyes turned the rest of his head to the side, no longer meeting France's face. He hadn't expected France to dress up so much for dinner. He tried not to think of it as he muttered, "You better be paying, frog."

A light chuckle danced from France's lips, "But of course, Angleterre. Now, come." Without waiting for a response, or asking permission for that matter, he linked his arm with England's and pulled him off towards the restaurant.

England walked beside France, unintentionally matching step for step. It was easy to keep up with France when he appeared to be in one of his temporary laid back moods.

Temporary was the key word there for England. Last time France seemed to be in a laid back mood, he had gotten quite grabby with those hands of his.

The memory sent chills through England's spine. He looked at the other man and wondered why he kept hanging out with France anyways. He couldn't figure out what it was about him that kept him so close to the older Frenchman.

With a slight shrug, the Englishman just kind of assumed that it was because he felt an odd sense of comfort with this man. Though they shared a bitter rivalry, and were often arguing about petty little things, England couldn't help but feel something towards the man he'd been around for so long.

Dinner had been nice, England decided once it was over and they sat at the bar. Though the food had been American, it wasn't anything like what America ate all the time. Perhaps he had managed to influence America a little bit when he raised him. That lifted England's ego up a bit. He'd done good.

There'd been a bit of discomfort though. France couldn't keep his eyes off England's the entire time. They didn't wander to any of the women walking by at all. For once, they'd stayed solely on the Englishman's eyes. His smile and occasional light laugh sent chills down England's spine. Something had to be up.

And it wasn't discomfort like he didn't enjoy it. Sad to admit it to himself, France's Angleterre did very much enjoy the attention. He felt discomforted because he didn't want to display himself uncouth before this man.

France had ordered a red wine, just because he wanted to keep this night classy at the moment. England, on the other hand, decided he wanted some straight scotch.

It didn't take long for England to be slurring his speech. France's lips twisted into a grin. _Angleterre still can't hold his alcohol, it seems._

He paid the bartender and stood up. France gently placed his left hand over England's right hand, "Come on. You've had enough."

England quickly snatched his hand away and hiccupped, "No way! I decide when I've had enough! You're just a… a… a frog!"

France feigned hurt, "Now, now, mon amour. There's no need to get into such hurtful and petty insults. As long as I'm paying, I decide when you've had enough." He tsked, "You're already drunk."

England pouted and shook his head, "I'm n-not drunk, yet! I can shtill take some more!"

France just smiled cheerfully, "Come." He grabbed the messy blonde's arm and pulled him away without giving him a choice this time. England struggled for a moment, but he soon gave up and leaned on France.

"You're warm…" he muttered. He just closed his eyes and allowed himself to be dragged. France just chuckled softly, "Oh, Angleterre, why can't you be this way all the time?"

He was a bit surprised when he heard the younger man manage to mumble, "Because you're a frog," sleepily. Still, he couldn't suppress the smile that crossed his lips at this.

He managed to lead England to his hotel room. Had England been in his right mind, this would've been much harder. There'd be yelling and rude insults.

He helped England sit down on his bed. The man swayed a bit, but looked at France, "Hm?"

France smiled down at England, "You wait right here. I'll be right back for you." England's head bobbed a little bit. The Frenchman assumed that he was nodding his understanding.

He left his date's, France might've been the only one thinking of it as a date though, side and went to the restroom. He removed the already very loose tie completely and unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons. His right hand's fingers slid through his silky hair, just messing it up a little bit. Then he returned to the bedroom.

However, he couldn't say he was entirely pleased with the sight that was waiting for him.

England had managed to fall asleep. His face was buried in the middle pillow, and his arms and legs were stretched out all over the place.

A long breath slowly left France's lips as he took this sight in. He walked over the end of the bed and pulled off England's shoes. He simply dropped them on the floor and moved around to where England's head rested.

He bent down and planted a kiss on England's cheek softly, "I needed you to stay awake, Angleterre. I can't have any fun with you like this."

He straightened himself and sighed. He left the bedroom and moved to the small sitting area and laid sprawled out on the couch. One night like this couldn't hurt. That was the thought that put him to sleep.

England awoke the following morning to find his head pounding. His eyes still closed when he sat up, he rubbed his head.

_Damn, that hurts,_ he thought to himself. He opened his eyes and looked around. This place seemed unfamiliar. Where was he?

Slowly, the previous night's events returned to him. It was then he realized that he must've been in France's room. Oh no, oh no, oh no! He began to panic. _What did that frog do to me?_

However, upon further inspection of the room, he saw no sign of the French frog. After swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up and stretched. He slowly dragged himself to the door and opened it.

In the small sitting room, on a couch, there was France. Rather than feeling angry some more, England felt a slight pang of regret. He put the frog through a lot last night, didn't he? And just when he was about to turn around and return to the room, the frog stirred.

France's opened his blue eyes slowly, allowing himself to adjust to the light of morning. One of the first things he noticed was a drowsy, messier blonde hair than normal, somebody looking at him. He smiled softly, "Did you sleep well? I'll drive you home. I'm sure your head is bothering you."

France had gone drinking with England enough to know how he reacted to alcohol. He knew England probably had a raging headache at this point.

The Englishman simply nodded, "Thanks."

A little over an hour later, France pulled his rental car into America's driveway. He got out of the car and escorted England to the front door.

Just as England was about to turn the doorknob, a series of short, breathy moans and gasps sounded from inside America's house.

France grinned widely, and England blushed intensely.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm curious about how many people I threw off with the last chapter ;D I wrote the last chapter while playing video games. It all makes sense when you read!

* * *

><p>France's lips had been twisted in a satisfactory grin. Of course, he hadn't thought things would go so smoothly, but he guessed that unpredictable people produce unpredictable results.<p>

He turned towards England to see that his hand was frozen about an inch away from the doorknob, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Seeing England like this only made France grin further. "What's the matter, Angleterre? Want me to go in first?"

England felt himself recoil away from both France and the door, "N-no! Let's just go back to your hotel, or something!"

France placed a hand against his cheek and closed his eyes for a moment, falling into thought. _Oh my, which do I choose?_

England's eyes remained locked on France. His face was expressionless.

France opened his eyes and smirked, "Oh Angleterre, why would you make me make such a difficult decision? Do I want to say hello to America, or do I want to take you back to my hotel for some fun?"

England didn't like the tone that France used. Each and every one of his words had been dripping with France's seductive tone.

However, he suddenly realized that going back to France's hotel wasn't an option. The thought hadn't occurred to him that France would take it in the wrong way when he was trying to get him away from house, but now…

_Forgive me, America_, he thought as he reached towards the doorknob again. He turned the doorknob and pushed open the door.

As they entered the large living room of America's home, both the men's jaws dropped. There, on the couch, America and his lady friend, Belarus, were playing video games. It was some fighting game, and Belarus just couldn't get the hang of it. The moans had been the sound her character made each time America's character hit it.

Belarus wasn't wearing her dress though, instead, she was wearing a large white T-shirt and baggy blue jeans. Her hair had been tied in a ponytail that went over her left shoulder, and she still had the bow in her hair.

America had on some Doctor Who shirt, much to England's liking, and a pair of jeans. He was grinning at the television screen, happy that he was beating Belarus.

The blonde woman, on the other hand, was clearly frustrated. She was sort of squinting at the television now, and angrily mashing buttons, "This is impossible!" Honestly, she just didn't understand how video games worked as well as America did.

France just started laughing, but England was a bit… angry. France had said America had a lady friend, but he didn't say who it was. This… this monster now was suddenly just playing video games with America as if she never tried to hurt him? Angry was an understatement. He was fuming.

He was mad at France for not saying something. He was angry at Belarus for playing with his younger brother like this. And he was absolutely fuming at America for even thinking that this was a good idea! England began to believe that he was doomed to be surrounded by imbeciles who don't think of the consequences their actions resulted in. He had already warned America to stay away from Belarus!

Neither of the nineteen year olds had noticed the newcomers. They were both so focused on the video game.

England cleared his throat, hoping to get their attentions. Only Belarus looked up though. She flung the remote control from her hands onto the couch as quickly as she could, glad to have a reason to no longer play.

Her blue eyes scanned the people in the room, and when they reached France, red alert messages were sent to her brain. In an instant she was on her feet and walking over to the Frenchman.

Her rough voice immediately attacked his ears, "How dare you?!"

The older man took a step back, "N-now wait a second… It was to help you, of course!"

Her teeth pressed roughly against each other and she narrowed her eyes at the man. Her right hand was drawn back to bring down against the man's face.

When she attempted to bring her arm down, something was keeping it up. She angrily turned around and twisted her arm. She cried out in pain, but managed to look into the eyes of who was holding her. America's playful blue eyes stared down at her softly.

She was about to yank her hand away when America released her arm. If it were at all possible, Belarus swore his eyes softened more, "Are you okay, Bela?"

Her arm was yanked into herself and she rubbed the spot America had grabbed. Without looking up at him, she roughly responded, "Yeah," and nothing more.

The American breathed out a sigh and apologized for hurting her. Belarus didn't even bring her eyes up to face him as she silently stalked by him angrily. She sat down on the couch and crossed her arms, pouting.

England grabbed America's wrist, "I need to talk to you. Right now." He stalked off, dragging America behind him. France winced and looked at Belarus on the couch, and then at the door where the other two males had just left. "Don't leave me here alone with her!"

There was no answer from either males. However, France took it upon himself to rush out of the room after them.

Belarus waited a moment before heading towards the door herself. Rather than going through it, however, she leaned onto the wall near it and pressed her ear against it, eager to hear what the men were talking about without her.

* * *

><p>America cried out in pain as England shoved him against a wall. He leaned in close, "What on Earth are you thinking, America?!"<p>

He looked up at England and frowned, "What're you talking about, man?"

He sighed and released America, "I told you not to get involved with her."

America's right hand curled into a fist, "I'm just helping her out like the hero I am!" He smiled and calmed down as he explained, "She came to visit my country and didn't have a place to stay, so I offered her a place."

England frowned, "You couldn't let her stay with anyone else?"

America's blue eyes closed and he scratched the back of his neck bashfully, "Come on, dude! I'm a hero! I can't let anyone else take the glory of helping a damsel in distress! Besides, she's like totally nice!"

England's hand connected with his own forehead roughly, "Did you really just call her 'nice'? America, you dunce! It wasn't that long ago that she was bent on destroying you!"

America's lips turned into a frown, "That was just a misunderstanding, obviously. She hasn't tried to hurt me once!"

The bushy browed blonde's hand went up to his forehead and rubbed softly, surely America couldn't be serious. "A misunderstanding? How is trying to kill you a misunderstanding?"

The air in the room seemed to grow heavy as a silence fell upon them. America's blue eyes stared at the older blondes before he sighed and leaned against the wall, making himself comfortable, "You really haven't noticed it, have you?"

France remained silent, but England brought it upon himself to ask what America was going on about now, "Noticed what exactly?"

His left hand rose to scratch his cheek before he said anything, "Guess _you _haven't. France has, at least. Even if he doesn't realize it, it's why he was helping Belarus out before, I assume. She's always alone, Iggy. Always so alone. Haven't you ever seen it? The only person she ever goes near is Russia, and he appears so terrified of her!"

The Englishman felt his jaw go heavy and fought the urge to just let it drop as he stared at America. It took a moment before he could finally respond, "She's alone because she's psychotic! Have you seen her? Are you just that idiotic?!"

America's hands clenched into fists and he pushed himself off of the wall and moved closer to England, "She's psychotic because she's alone! Stop lying to yourself and to me, England!"

England felt him recoil not at America's advancement and rage, but at hearing the name "England" come from his lips. He hadn't heard that in a while. He just became "Iggy."

Seeing the hurt that he caused England, the American took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. It was another few minutes before he continued speaking, "I'm sorry, but look at her. What if she wasn't so alone? If she had someone to teach her how to be nice and interact with people and enjoy it, she'd be happier, wouldn't she? So why can't I help her with that? I'm the hero, aren't I, Iggy?"

The green eyes of his softened, and when he spoke, the entire room seemed to grow lighter. He smiled and kissed his younger brother's cheek, "Yeah, you're the hero. I'm sorry. Do what you think is right." He tried to remember the last time he saw America acting mature. Had he always been this rational?

America's cheerful grin returned quickly and he hugged England, "Thanks, bro! You won't regret it!" He sped out of the room as quickly as his legs would move.

As soon as he was out of the room, France's arms went around England's waist from behind, "Oh~ You're such a kind brother, Angleterre!"

England pouted and crossed his arms, "Shut up, frog."

"Now, now~ That is no way to treat someone who took you out to dinner and gave you a place to sleep, is it, mon amour?" He allowed himself to rest his chin on the English blonde's right shoulder.

England's cheeks began to flush a deep red as the blood rose to his cheeks. His head quickly turned to face the opposite direction of France.

His tongue slid out of his mouth and licked the Englishman's neck slowly, "I don't even think I've heard a thanks, have I?"

England cleared his throat, the blush only growing darker as France stayed close to him, "Th-thanks… Now get off me, you git!"

A heart filled laugh made its way past France's lips as he released England and stepped away. He watched England try to relax himself with another chuckle. He hadn't even realized his effect on the other man. It was nice knowing that he did though. After all this time of worrying that England truly did hate him, it was nice to see that he had some effect on England that made him a bit self-conscious, in what appeared to be a good way.

England pulled his arms into himself, crossing them against his chest. A few deep breaths of air entered and left him before he turned to France and smiled, "America's grown, hasn't he?"

France wasn't given the time to reply to England's comment with something about how much he truly cares though he pretends not to when England continued, "I'm sure I raised him better than you raised Canada, huh?"

France pouted, but was happy to see England being his normal cocky, pride filled self. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting my Canada is messed up somehow?"

England shook his head, "Oh no! Quite the contrary! I'm suggesting that the only reason he's as good as he is, is because he managed to get away from you before he was messed up! America on the other hand, was raised by me for so long and turned out perfect!"

The Frenchman's mouth opened to say something bug he shut it. He wouldn't go onto touchy subjects like that. Instead he just shook his head, "You're something else, Angleterre." He grinned, "I also noticed you completely ignored the fact that Belarus was in America's clothes."

England's mouth fell open, "She was?!"

* * *

><p>Belarus didn't have time to return to the couch to pretend she hadn't heard the conversation. America got out of the room and almost ran into her. She stepped back quickly and looked at America for a moment before she turned her head away and ran out of his home.<p>

* * *

><p>I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I meant to update sooner but things went down and I never did and I'm sorry! DX<p>

Also, I'm sorry that I seem to enjoy making Belarus appear so lonely T-T I don't know why, but that's just how I always end up making her one way or another and gah.

Also, MY FEELS DX

And I'm really going to start doing more FrUK soon~!

Review please! :D


	9. Chapter 9

Panic rushed through the American blonde as he watched the girl escape. She had heard them, and she had heard him. Without even realizing what he was doing, he took off after her. His feet practically hovered above the floor as he chased her outside and down the street.

She was quick, but he just so happened to be quicker. He caught up to her rather quickly. He had the intentions of simply grabbing her arm or shoulder to stop her but found himself with his arms around her. He pulled her back as gently as he could, into him.

They stayed like that for a moment. America just showing her that he was there, and that he had no intention of letting her go.

Belarus, on the other hand, felt shivers going through her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she relaxed for a moment. It was a warm feeling that went through her. She couldn't remember having ever been hugged before. Not by Russia, not by anyone.

Only Russia should've hugged her. She gathered herself up and found herself squirming from America's arms, "Release me!"

America complied and unwound himself from her. However, the moment she looked ready to run from him again, he grabbed her wrist.

"Let go! Right now!" She found herself crying out slightly as the hand tightened around her wrist. Her left hand began to reach for a knife but she felt America's grip threatening to tighten again, "Don't you dare."

Raising her head, twilight met the sky through their eyes. His eyes seemed darker now, as he held her tightly. They were not void of kindness, no. That kindness always seemed to be there, no matter the circumstances. It was there during the cold war; it was there during WWII; it was even there when he left England. No, it never left. It was a lingering kindness, a want to help everyone. It was a want to make everyone happy, to see everyone smiling. It was a want to never hurt someone.

And now it was there when he stared down Belarus, a woman who was close to pulling a knife on him, and a woman who had hurt him before.

Everything was all wrong. She didn't mind the kindness that he was offering her. In fact, she was kind of reminded of when they were younger. He'd been a sort of older brother to her. Not like Russia, he could never be like Russia, but a brother nevertheless. Someone she didn't mind being around when the rest of the world didn't want her.

So, she relaxed everything but her eyes, which bore deep into America. Her voice was softer than usual, but America still noticed the hostility, "I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you. I just want to help you."

"For what, America? What do you gain from helping someone like myself?"

"Alfred," He simply stated.

"What?"

"Call me Alfred." Belarus was surprised by this. Even when they were younger, he had not revealed his human name to her. Human names were sacred, something only someone very close to a country knew about. Belarus didn't even know Russia's human name. She knew no one's.

She looked at him with cold eyes, "Why would you tell me that?"

He released her wrist, "My full name is Alfred F. Jones. I want you to know because that's how serious I am, Bela. I want you to trust me, please."

"Don't call me Bela." Her eyes were still cold. America was about to apologize when she interrupted him, "I'm Natalya." Both of them were surprised. Belarus managed to surprise even herself with the things she found she could easily tell him.

He was, after all, nearly a stranger. They hadn't had contact outside of hearing each other speak at meetings for years. Things fell apart between them when America had a rough time dealing with her rather violent side.

Neither side could break the silence that began to linger between them. It wasn't awkward to them at all. They were studying each other in an attempt to silently regain the familiarity they once had long ago.

It took Natalya a moment to realize when Alfred has released her wrist. She found something within her yearning for contact between them again, but she shoved it away quickly. It's something of a sin to wish for it, she told herself as an excuse.

Alfred's eyes seemed to brighten up entirely, "Why don't ya come on back over? We've still got to finish our game! I can order pizza for dinner too! Or hamburgers! But we'd have to go and leave to get them. It kinda sucks that nowhere delivers burgers! Oh, well I mean, you could stay and I could get them, if you want burgers. It doesn't matter to me, you can choose!"

She stared for a moment before forcing a smile. It felt awkward on her face, it wasn't an expression often used by her. No one gave her reasons to smile anymore, not even forced ones. She did, however, recognize that he genuinely wanted to be close to her, and decided that it wouldn't be too bad to allow it.

"I'm just a visitor, Alfred." She found it strange how much she wanted to use his name. It felt strange on her tongue, but she liked it. "You can decide what we eat. I do not mind. I am not much of a picky eater."

He grinned, "Awesome! Let's order pizza! I don't really feel like driving to pick up food, ugh. We should get extra cheese and pepperoni and sausage and- Shit! Come on, it's cold out here, and neither of us have a jacket. You're shivering!"

Natalya looked down at her arms and hands and found that it was true; her body was shaking from the cold. Although, she didn't feel cold at all. In fact, she felt very warm. _How sad. I am so used to the cold and snow of brother's country that I no longer notice when my body is in need of warmth. _

She walked towards him, and then past him, back towards his house, "Then let's go."

* * *

><p>Back at Alfred's house, England and France had already left. Although there was a little message left for Alfred from his brother, <em>don't do anything incredibly stupid or else.<em> It entirely missed the goal of being intimidating and instead got a good laugh from Alfred.

Natalya made herself comfortable on the couch again and decided to get some practice through the game while Alfred pulled his cellphone out and called the nearest pizza place for extra fast delivery. Lucky for him, he had it on speed dial. He order a large pizza with a little bit of everything on it, except anchovies. _Ugh, who even puts anchovies on pizza?_

While waiting for the pizza, he even managed to exert enough patience to just talk to Natalya while she practiced, rather than joining in. He actually found it to be quite nice.

However, Natalya thought it was just a bit difficult to talk and concentrate on the game at the same time. It got a bit easier when Alfred was instructing her on how to improve rather than just chatting idly.

At some point, she even found her lips parted in grins and laughs without being forced. She'd forgotten how it felt to be this happy. She'd spent all her time focusing on gaining her brother's love and being angry and sat herself when she failed that she had forgotten how to have fun, especially fun like this.

It reminded her more of when she was much younger, just a new nation. Although Alfred had been around the most during those younger years, she had another friend who showed her the ropes of being a country. Every now and then, when he came, rather than teaching her, he'd take her places just for fun. He wasn't much like that anymore now though. He had grown past that age. Japan kept much more to himself, and they didn't visit each other any longer.

Almost all of the nations did except Alfred. Silently and quickly, her thoughts drifted away from the game on the television and Alfred's excited voice, and to thoughts and wonders about how he could stay so carefree. He had faced war many times, and so many heartbreaks. There had been many times when he watched his people suffer. He was surprisingly strong, to keep such a smile after all of that.

She wondered if she could be like that one day, but knew it wouldn't be that way. She was much too different, in every possible way.

Still, it felt nice to have a dream like a child would, like any human would. _But you're no child and you're no human. You're a country, act like one. _The thoughts ate away at her, she didn't notice Alfred waving his hand in front of her until he heard the doorbell and went to retrieve their pizza.

* * *

><p>He brought a slice up to his mouth and bit down. Almost immediately, he jumped back and tossed his slice of pizza onto the place. Fanning his mouth he cried out in pain, "It's hot!"<p>

It earned the slightest of giggles from Natalya that only lasted a moment. A short breath of air blew from her mouth and onto the pizza to cool it just a bit. She took a dainty little bite and found that it was just as good as she remembered. It'd been so long since she last had pizza.

Alfred didn't learn his lesson after the first time he burnt his tongue. Almost right after his mouth recovered, he was shoving pizza in his mouth again, and the sauce was scalding hot. He managed to do this several times before, instead of learning his lesson, the pizza cooled off enough to avoid burning his mouth.

Natalya was quiet through most of the dinner, but Alfred wasn't. He blabbed on about various things; sports, food, and something about a criminal in Germany who calls himself the Cookie Monster. He offered up opportunities for her to get some talk in often, but she just let him continue. She wasn't all that talkative like most took her to be, and Alfred was certainly enjoying the chance to talk nonstop.

She was going to help Alfred clean up, but he just shoved the plates into the kitchen sink and said he'd take care of it later. They need to sit in water for a bit, apparently.

Immediately after, a wide grin appeared on his face. "I know what we can do now!" Before he even let her ask a simple, "What?" he was shooting out names of various horror movies for them to watch.

"So you've gotten over your fear of those since we were children?" She remembered when he would always beg England to let them watch horror movies at night. He never agreed until one night, and that was the last time too. Alfred had nightmares for weeks, and wouldn't leave his room, terrified that aliens were waiting to take him.

He chuckled, "Well, I mean…" She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Aha! I've totally gotten over that fear! Heroes can't fear anything! Not monsters or villains or anything! That's how they keep people safe!"

He sounded sincere enough to her, especially when he decided to use being a hero as a reason he no longer feared such movies. He picked out one he claimed he'd never seen before, and that was okay because Natalya hadn't even heard of it; The Cabin in the Woods.

He did well at the beginning of the movie, which isn't that hard since nothing terrifying happens in the beginning. But as soon as the monsters appeared, he was gone. He became a shaking mess of whines and shouts directed towards a fictional movie on a television screen.

_He hasn't changed at all_, she realized. Still every bit that child he was all those years ago.

* * *

><p>Sorry<p>

I'm so sorry I haven't updated this recently!

Before, I was just going with it, I didn't really know what I wanted this to become. Now, however, I do. I know exactly how I want this to work out, so I'm gonna try and get a chapter up at the very least, once a week.

I hope you guys enjoyed this 3


	10. Chapter 10

About a month had gone by. Natalya recognized that she had been staying at Alfred's place much longer than she had originally intended, but she didn't mind. She was enjoying herself much more than she had ever before.

Alfred didn't mind either. It was such a blast to have someone he could show off his country to, someone who didn't mind like his brothers might've. After the first week, he proposed they travel around his country a bit, and she agreed apathetically.

It became more apparent as they travelled though that she was enjoying it and that she was actually glad she agreed.

They had also begun to share the bed they slept in the second night she was with him. The horror movie terrified him. Natalya had every intention to just let him suffer alone that night, but she found that she couldn't sleep with him screaming at every little sound.

So, she had just gone into his room and climbed into his bed beside him. For just a moment, she braced herself, expecting him to violently kick her off just as her brother had done so many times before. When it didn't happen, she looked over at him to see him smiling at her. He whispered thanks and closed his eyes, ready to try to sleep once more. She rolled her eyes before closing them as well.

After that night, Alfred proposed horror movies every night. She didn't exactly mind. It was kind of nice to sleep beside someone for the first time in her entire life. When she visited Alfred as a child, Arthur always made them sleep in separate rooms. _Paranoid old man_, was all she could ever think about him when she found herself remembering this.

Alfred was a bit of messy sleeper though. She'd wake up to find his legs and arms all over the place, the blanket pulled only over him, and his pillow (sometimes hers as well) on the floor. It never once woke her though. They were both deep sleepers, unable to be woken once fast asleep.

They were in Colorado now. They'd gone horseback riding a few days ago and were planning to try skiing later that day. They'd visited lovely places like Pike's Peak and Garden of the Gods. He'd taken her to different restaurants each day, giving her so many things to try.

They were simply visiting the zoo today while they were there. They were originally going to visit tomorrow or the next day, but Alfred heard that there was a new baby red panda, and he wanted to be the first to see it.

He had the entire thing planned out so they could see all the animals and still go skiing. Alfred kept up a quick pace as they wandered around, seeing what there was to see. He fawned over all the animals there, calling them adorable, cute, and even complimenting some as a "perfect animal sidekick to a hero."

He had even tried to convince her to pet a snake that the zoo staff had at one of their little at some point, promising her ice cream if she did it. She was truthfully a bit nervous about doing it, but the fact that all these human children could do it easily, convinced her there was nothing to be worried about.

Now they sat eating ice cream in one of the little café like places there. According to Alfred, the weather in Colorado was a bit unusual. There should've been piles of snow everywhere, but instead it was just a bit cold. Natalya wasn't going to wear even a sweater, but she was convinced that even if there wasn't snow, it was still fairly cold.

She took a bite of her vanilla ice cream. Alfred had chocolate, but he already ate all of it.

A soft ringing got Alfred to stop talking. He quickly checked his phone then sighed, "I didn't think it was mine. Not my ringtone."

Natalya was about to shrug it off when she realized how close it sounded to her. She checked her pockets and found her phone in the right one. She looked at it; it was ringing and flashing at her. She almost forgot she had bought a cell phone since no one ever called her.

She quickly looked up at Alfred, afraid to miss a call she so rarely got. Before she could even decide how to ask him, he was already smiling and waving to the phone, "Go ahead and answer it, dude. I can wait!"

A soft smile was her thanks to him. Smiles had become much easier for her recently, and they no longer felt forced.

The phone was flipped open, and she pressed the glowing green button. Instantly, she brought it up to her left ear, "Алё?"

"Belarus? It's Ukraine."

She was unsure of how to feel about her sister calling her. It didn't make her sad or angry, but it most certainly didn't cheer her up any. "Oh, sister. How are you? Why are you calling me?"

She could see her sister flinching at the phone through her mind's eye. A month ago, she wouldn't have cared, but now she realized how much fear she created in her sister.

"S-something's happened, something I think you should know…" Her voice trailed off towards the end, and Natalya could hear the sobs that Ukraine was trying so hard to keep back.

Worry quickly went through her, "Are you alright? What's happened?"

"I'm fine, it's Ivan…"

Although Natalya didn't recognize this name, she felt something go through her and make her sick, "Ivan?"

"Yes, Ivan. That was Russia's human name…"

Russia, her brother. Something happened to her brother. Anger, rather than worry, went through her. "What happened? How come you know his human name and I do not?"

She choked out another sob, "Please, I didn't know before this… I swear, he never told me!"

Across the table, Alfred shot her a worried glance. She ignored it entirely. "What happened to brother?" she demanded loudly.

"He s-signed the documents…"

"Documents? What documents?"

There was a long pause from Ukraine's end of the phone as she attempted to gather herself together. She took a deep breath in and then breathed it out, "He's no longer a country. He's human, Belarus."

Natalya was stunned for a moment. She stared at nothing and felt her jaw fall a bit. Her brother, the love of her life, was human now? There was no chance for them any longer, unless she became a human too. Once that was done, there was no becoming a country again. Those were the rules.

This had to be a lie. Her sister wanted her out of the picture to have Russia all for herself. Yes, that was surely what it was.

"You liar. I'm going to visit him right now. I'm going to Russia right now." For just a moment, she pulled the phone from her ear and glared at Alfred, "Take me to the nearest airport this instance."

Before he could reply, she put the phone back to her ear just in time to hear her sister cry, "not a liar!"

"You are! You are expecting me to believe you and become human so I cannot be with brother, but it will not work. I am going to visit him right now, and I will prove that you're lying." She hung up without another word.

Alfred stared at her, "We can't just go to the airport right now! We don't have tickets or stuff! And who knows when the next plane to Russia leaves!"

She stared back coldly, "Not we. Only I am going to Russia. I stayed here too long. I was foolish and thought that I could enjoy the happiness you always have, but I can't. I live in a world of hurt and lies and pain, not of endless joy. I cannot act like a child."

He physically recoiled at her harsh words. His eyes softened, "I'm not a child. I don't have endless happiness, Natalya. My world is constantly filled with hurt and lies, but I can't dwell on them. If I always dwelled on the bad things, I'd never be happy, and heroes can't be depressed all the time. I dwell on the good things instead, like having you here. Don't push me away again; I don't want that hurt again."

She froze, "Push you away? I've never done something like that to you!"

"Yes, you have, Natalya."

"I haven't!" she yelled loudly, more in an attempt to convince herself than anything else.

People began to stare, so Alfred stood up and motioned for her to come outside with him. She did, although she didn't want to.

"Can you remember when we stopped hanging out entirely?" He didn't look at her, but at the seals across from where they had ice cream.

"When you stopped visiting me," she answered bluntly.

"You didn't visit me either," he pointed out. "I couldn't come visit you because you wouldn't let me. You suddenly turned your obsession for your brother into infatuation. You wouldn't even let me in the same house as him, even when you were there. You got violent, Natalya."

She thought back on it, "It was your fault."

"I can see how parts of it would've been my fault. I made a little joke, but you took that to extremes, Nattie."

"You can't call me that." She remembered the joke in question, but she had trusted Alfred so well, that she assumed it was advice of some sort.

* * *

><p>"Look!" She held her hands out to Alfred. A ribbon with a bow on it lay on the palms of her hands.<p>

"That's really pretty! Did you buy it?" He had looked away from the microwave for just a moment to look at what she held in her hands. England wouldn't make hamburgers for him, and he wasn't allowed to use the stove, so he learned how to make hamburgers in the microwave. He made them each time Natalya came over. She had really grown to love them as much as he did.

She shook her head, "Nope! Brother gave it to me!" She jumped up and climbed onto the counter beside Alfred, where they always waited for the hamburgers to finish cooking together. "Can you help me put it in my hair?"

He smiled, "Yeah! Turn around!" She turned her back to him, swinging her feet up onto the counter as well. He positioned the bow on the top of her head and tied the ribbon under her hair. "You know," he began. He was going to say something about how he kinda liked her, but he remembered how England always was around France. Obviously, you can't just tell someone you like them. England always made France think he hated him. He didn't want to hurt her though, so he just said something to make her think he didn't like her, "If you love your brother so much, why don't you just marry him? I mean, you're cute and all, you'd look good with whoever you married."

A big smile popped up onto her face, "Really? Do you think so? Do you think he'd marry me?"

Alfred laughed, "Totally! What's not to love about you? You two are destined to be together!"

* * *

><p>Her most trusted friend thought that she had a chance at marrying her brother; thought she <em>should <em>marry him. That meant something to her, and that would stick with her for a while. As well as another thing that happened that night.

France came in closer to the end of the day, "Oh? Is Belarus spending the night here again?"

England looked up from the book he had in his hand, "Yeah. She is."

"Oh that's just so adorable! At this young of an age, America already has a lady friend over!" He grinned and winked at England, "Do you think they'll get together when they're older?"

A bookmark was slid in between the current pages England was reading, and then the book was promptly slammed shut. He tossed it at France's head, "That's sick! Even if it does happen, it's none of our bloody business!"

He ducked just in time and a smirk crossed his face, "Oh fine, ruin my fun. You're going to have your hands full tonight anyways!" He left the kitchen and went to the living room where the small countries were playing a game of tic-tac-to.

"What the hell do you mean?" England yelled from the kitchen. When he didn't hear France answer him, he went to check what he was up to.

There, he found France telling the children a story of monsters that come in the dark. They hugged each other in fear.

England rushed France off quickly, but that night neither child could sleep alone. England bought both of them teddy bears to make up for it, something to this day neither could sleep without.

* * *

><p>Within moments, she had a knife at Alfred's throat, "You fucking lied to me. My whole life, everything I did was for my brother. Every bit of hurt came from him. Don't tell me this is your fault."<p>

His eyes widened a bit, "How the fuck did you even get that through security?!"

She pressed the knife against his throat a bit, "I have my ways."

He gulped, "Please, come on! Relax! We were kids, I honestly didn't think that at the time, you'd take what I said so seriously! I had a bit of a crush on you, okay? So I did what I thought you were supposed to do when you had a crush on someone, make them think you don't! I was doing what England did, and that was so fucking stupid of me, I get it!"

She stared at him for a moment, and even though killing him wasn't possible since he was a country, the thought of cutting his throat open appealed to her for a moment.

But she turned around and left instead. This time, for good.

* * *

><p>I'm gonna be honest, I don't think I like how this chapter turned out all that much.<p>

I used some headcanons from littleaphheadcanon's tumblr. I loved them.

Also, even though it wasn't that painful of a chapter, it hurt to write about them because they're my otp /3

Two updates with only one day in between! Record! :D


	11. Chapter 11

After she had left Alfred, she had gotten a cab to the nearest airport. She had every intention of never seeing his face again. All he did was manipulate her life to his liking. She was a foolish child back then to trust him, and it seemed that nothing had changed.

Natalya was at the airport a bit later. She'd gotten a ticket for the next flight to Russia, which, as luck would have it, was in just two hours.

She _was _supposed to be getting on the plane in another hour. Things took a different turn though.

Security had stopped her when she tried to go through with so many knives on her person. She fought back to keep them, but they restrained her and locked her in a room to decide what to do with her. She was obviously too dangerous to put on a plane with civilians.

She had shouted from the room for a while that she was the human representation of the country of Belarus and they had no right to do this, but she was shrugged off as a crazy.

No security guard could be spared at the present time since the rush of people at the airport was more than expected. They didn't want to even try sending just one person to take her down to the closest station. With the recent number of shootings that had been occurring, none of them felt safe an officer short.

Despite being in a room without any windows or people, she shouted at the door for an hour. At some point she had stopped even trying to use English and went entirely into Belarusian. But after that hour, her throat was sore and she was exhausted. She'd already missed her flight, so she just relaxed into the chair that was near the pole she was handcuffed too.

Another hour passed when the door on the other side of the room suddenly opened. She stood up quickly, knocking her chair back. The woman at the door in the security uniform walked over to Natalya and began to take off the handcuffs, "Someone's here to pick you up."

Her eyes lightened. It was surely her brother! He found out what a horrible person Alfred was and came to get her! Of course, of course!

Then they darkened again. That couldn't be it. There wasn't enough time since she received the news for him to get here. Not many people could get her in that amount of time.

The woman's hand roughly grabbed Natalya's arm and pulled her to the door, "Come on. I want you out of here as soon as possible."

The security guard looked outside the door, "Is this her? Just to be safe?" She pulled Natalya into view.

Her eyes drifted to where the other woman looked and twilight collided with the daylight sky. Alfred stood over there, hands on his hips, with a big grin, "Yeah! Thanks a bunch ma'am. I'm sorry for any trouble she might've caused."

A sound much similar to an animal's growl ripped from her throat at the sight of him, "I'm going у па-чартоўску заб'ю цябе, вырадак!" She switched to Belarusian mid-speech without even realizing it.

The security guard looked at Natalya and then at Alfred, "Are you sure you can take care of her?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure. She may seem dangerous, but I assure you, she wouldn't hurt a fly." _Because nations are much more fun to hurt, aren't they, Nattie?_

_Because they can go through such immense pain and not die, can't they, Alfred? _Thoughts came to them and created a coincidental conversation between them.

The security guard sighed, "Well, I'm gonna trust you, son. Don't get hurt." She let go of Natalya's arm.

In an instant, Natalya was running at America and reached out to grab his throat. She had every intention of just choking him until he passed out.

She was stopped, however, by a strong hand suddenly grasping her wrist. The hand quickly, but rather gently, swung her around and pinned her up against the wall, "We're not going to have any of that."

Natalya glared at Alfred, unable to comprehend what had just happened, "Where'd you get that strength? Why didn't you ever use it when I was hurting you before?!"

His shoulders shrugged, "I've always sorta had it, I just don't use it on other people if possible."

She gritted her teeth, "I'm going to find a way to kill you."

He grinned softly, "I look forward to that."

He got off of her, but kept his grip on her wrist and began to guide her to leave the airport. She struggled, shouting and causing quite the scene. "Let me go! I need to go to Russia!"

He ignored her and kept walking. Just as they had gotten out the front door, Natalya was in such a hurry to get back inside, that she moved her arm to get away in a way that caused a loud crack to come from it. She screamed out from the sudden pain that shot down to her wrist.

In an instant, Alfred let go of her arm, "Shit! Are you okay, Nattie?"

She quickly hugged her wrist into her chest and took a few steps away from Alfred, "Jerk!"

He approached her, only wanting to help, "It was an accident, I swear!"

She recoiled again quickly, "No! You stay away!" A few more steps back and she tripped over a rise in the sidewalk and fell over.

Despite her protesting, he picked her up carefully and walked right back into the airport. He was sure there was a first aid stand somewhere in there.

He walked around with Natalya squirming and trying to get him to put her down. At one point, she had raised her right hand to hit him, but just as she brought her hand down, pain shot through her wrist once again. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from showing any sign that she was hurt.

He found the first aid station and put her down. The man had her sit in a chair and immediately began to look at her wrist. He told Alfred that he could probably go walk around for a bit, but he declined. He was worried that Natalya would do something stupid and get herself hurt even more.

To his surprise, Natalya remained quiet as the man wrapped up her wrist. He looked at Alfred, "This is only a temporary solution. You should probably get her to the hospital to have her wrist x-rayed."

Alfred nodded, "Then I'll do that. Thank you."

This time they walked back to the car without needing to force Natalya there. She followed wordlessly.

He took her immediately to the hospital. She was taken in for an x-ray, as was suggested, and they found that her wrist was broken. They got it in a cast and told her she was good to go for a few weeks.

By then, it was night. Alfred sighed and got into his car, "This sucks. The whole day is gone! I was gonna take you back to NY too! We'll just wait until tomorrow, I guess."

Natalya got in the passenger side, "What makes you think I'm going back with you?"

"Well, I'm not letting you go to Russia. A little after you left I got a call, someone's waiting to see you back at my house. I feel bad they gotta get a hotel because we won't get there soon though…"

She glared at him and then grinned, "I hope you know I'm going to skin you with a toothpick and pour hand sanitizer all over you."

He shuddered, "Holy crap, Nattie. You're terrifying!"

She laughed, "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have someone to teach me to be sweet."

He looked over at her, "You shouldn't have left me then."

She rolled her eyes and leaned onto the door on her right, "Don't start this again."

He just smiled, "Just saying. I am the master of sweet thangs."

She looked for something to throw at him, "No. Absolutely not."

He laughed, "Come on! I totally am!"

She opened the glove compartment and started throwing things she could find at him, "Nope. You keep dreaming."

He quickly lifted one hand off the steering wheel to protect himself, "I'm driving!"

"Then you shouldn't have said something so idiotic!"

The car slowly edged away from the busy street and pulled over to the side. He quickly put the car in park and held up his arms in an X shape to protect himself, "Now you may throw things at me."

She laughed, "The hero can't take things being thrown at him while driving?"

He pouted and put his arms down, "I totally can! It just wouldn't be very heroish of me if I accidentally hit another car on the road!"

She tossed a pack of tissues at his head, "Of course not, but do heroes even exist, Alfred?"

He threw the tissue pack right back at her, "Of course they do, and I am one of them!"

"Have you never hurt anyone before?" She asked suddenly. She hadn't meant to ask it, not out loud, at least. It slipped out the moment she thought about how heroes could never hurt anyone.

The playfulness that his eyes showed just a moment ago faded away, "Of course I've hurt people before, Nattie."

"Then how is it you are a hero?"

He thought for a moment, then leaned back on his chair. "Well, most heroes have hurt people before. They've realized the mistakes that they've made, and because of those mistakes, they work extra hard to be a hero who never causes anyone else pain." He cleared his throat, "Take Tony Stark as an example-"

"Tony Stark?"

"Iron Man."

"Oh."

"Yeah, now let me tell my story! So, Tony sorta hurts a lot of people near him, especially this girl Pepper, who he really likes. But he makes up for it by protecting the people!"

"So you can get away with hurting people if you help other people?"

He flinched at the idea, "Okay, maybe I explained it wrong… I'm just saying that people can still be heroes even if they've hurt people in the past! The point is that they try not to hurt people anymore, okay?"

She thought about it for a moment, "It makes sense, I think."

"Have you even seen Iron Man?"

"Should I have?"

He groaned, "Oh man! Back to the hotel, on the double! You are going to watch all the Marvel movies I have on my laptop! Back at home, you can even read the comics, if you want!"

Without waiting for her to say anything, he got the car going again and headed right back to their hotel. Natalya decided she wouldn't mind watching these movies. She'd be fine with most movies as long as they weren't horror movies that would cause Alfred to have too many nightmares.

Back at the hotel, Natalya took some pills for the pain she was feeling in her wrist. Afterwards, she sat on the bed and watched Alfred hook up his laptop to the television. She was rather surprised at how much she'd calmed down just from being with him.

She also hoped that the guest at Alfred's house was Russia, which was why she was kind of alright with heading back to Alfred's house.

Alfred got the laptop hooked up to the television fairly quickly. He closed tumblr and opened up iTunes. He selected the first Iron Man movie, and Natalya was glad to see that there was quite a bit of violence in it.

Closer to the end of the movie, Natalya looked over to see that Alfred had fallen asleep. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she managed to stay awake just to the end of the movie.

She didn't even bother getting out of the bed to go to her own. She just closed her eyes and clicked into dreamland.

* * *

><p>I hope everyone's actually enjoying this still. I've done so hard to update it more since I left it alone for all those months. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be writing it for, but I think it'll come to a close in a few chapters. We'll see though!<p>

If you like America/Belarus though and my writing, I do have the first chapter of the one I'm going to be working on after this up! It's sort of a human AU and they're in a relationship right off the bat, but I hope it'll be enjoyable for everyone who checks it out.


	12. Chapter 12

It would be a lie to say that Alfred wasn't pleased when he awoke beside Natalya. He was honestly surprised to find that he was a lighter sleeper than her.

Without getting out of the bed, he rolled from his stomach onto his left side to take a look at the alarm clock on the table beside the bed. He let out a groan when he saw that it was nearing twelve in the afternoon. That meant that he'd have to get out of bed. They really needed to get going soon.

With a sigh he flopped back down onto his stomach and turned his head to look at Natalya. Perhaps they could stay like this until she awoke. He didn't have the heart to wake her up any earlier than necessary.

Her hair was a mess. That blonde hair of hers had managed to get itself into many knots, even though she didn't look as if she moved much that night. The sheets around her figure didn't seem to have been moved at all, actually, compared to his side that was a mess.

He felt his heart pause for a moment and reached his hand under his nose, not close enough to touch her, just close enough to feel her breath. He let out a huge sigh when he felt her soft breath. Just noticing that she didn't move much worried him.

He'd shared the same bed as her in the past, when she spent time at his house. His guest room was occupied with his new collection of action figures. He needed to move them somewhere else, but that was the easiest place for them at the present time. He couldn't let her sleep on the couch; he was, after all, a gentleman. After a few nights of sleeping on the couch and complaining about his back, she had given him his bed back and refused to let him sleep on the couch. They'd mutually agreed that sharing was fine.

This was, however, the first time that she'd moved so little in her sleep. It had just surprised him.

His eyes drifted open and close as he lingered in a state that wasn't yet sleep, but not quite awake either. It made him feel exhausted and long for sleep, but sleep didn't seem too comfortable after being in that state either.

Drawing her hands to her face to rub her eyes, Natalya woke up around one. She tossed her arms into the air, palm side up, and stretched, letting out a soft moan as she adjusted to being awake.

Alfred sat up in the bed the moment he heard her and smiled, "About time!" He expected her to shout at him after yesterday, or, at the very least, glare at him some.

Much to his surprise, the woman simply shrugged him off, "What time is it?"

Alfred took a moment to look at the clock before answering her, "1:08. In the afternoon, that is."

Her mouth opened in a small yawn before she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She stretched herself up just a bit more, and then dragged herself to the bathroom so that she could take a shower.

Alfred waited patiently as he heard the water running from the shower. His mind was occupied on things he could do to convince Natalya to stay with him. Of course, she had a country to take care of, he understood that fact, but he wanted her beside him as often as he could have her there. Natalya deserved someone better than Russia, someone who wouldn't return her love.

He and Russia had their differences, but he didn't hate the big guy. He just felt like the female nation should have a chance being loved instead of giving the love for once. He wanted to be the one that let her feel that for once.

Of course, he'd have to apologize to Lithuania. Poor dude's been attempting to tell her how he felt for ages only to be hurt.

Thoughts of a future with her danced around in his mind and kept him occupied. It wasn't until the door to the bathroom swung open that he jumped up, returning to the present world.

Natalya stood in the doorway with a one towel wrapped around her body and a second one around her head and hair. Her skin, while mostly dry, let a few drops of water fall to the carpeted floor of the hotel room.

Her eyes narrowed, and Alfred, with his cherry painted face, expected her to get violent. Instead, she simply pointed at him and shouted, "Turn around right now!" The moment the words left her mouth, he jumped up and spun 180 degrees in the air so that he was facing the opposite direction.

Her footsteps were light, but he could hear them approaching their suitcases. The soft woosh of the towels dropping to the ground made him stand perfectly still. He wished to do nothing to provoke her.

After the rustling of clothes, that he reasonably assumed she was putting on, ceased, he quietly asked, "Is it safe for me to turn yet?"

He expected her to simply answer with "yes" or "no." His entire body jolted up when he felt her hand on his shoulder, twisting his body towards her.

Her body pressed up close to his, and she rest her left cheek against his chest. Her arms wrapped around Alfred and kept him close to her. He could feel her chest rising against his as she took breaths in and out, as she stayed alive.

His own arms wrapped around her, with fingers carefully caressing her side and back. He rocked her body side to side a bit with his. His eyes closed and he felt a giant grin grow onto his face that he couldn't keep in check.

"Nattie," he started. His head lowered so that his lips could kiss the top of her lovely blonde head. Something stopped him though.

A small, but sharp, pain in his stomach made him jump back away from the Belarusian woman, and into the hotel bed. His eyes fluttered open to see an angry Natalya standing above him where he lay.

She wore a white T-shirt, he couldn't remember if it was his or one he bought for her, they all just sort of got messed up, and a pair of pink skinny jeans. Her long blonde hair was already in a side ponytail.

He rubbed his stomach, "Ow… What was that for?"

She sighed, "You were still asleep. Not to mention you were saying 'Nattie' while asleep. I didn't like it."

"Asleep?" He looked over at the clock. Rather than being after one, it was only 10:00 A.M.. He groaned, "Shit. That was a dream?" He rolled over in bed and pulled the covers up, "Either way, it's still too early to wake me up!"

A cold, hard hand hit the side of his face, "Too bad. Are you getting a shower or shall we just go?"

He lifted up of his left arm and took a whiff of his armpit. He shrugged, "Don't really think I need a shower today." He got out of bed, expecting Natalya to be disgusted with him, only to find that she was already putting her shoes on.

He crawled to where she sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him.

"What are you doing?" she inquired.

She could feel his shoulders shrug before he answered her, "Just thought you might need a hug."

"You were wrong," but she did nothing to try and remove herself from that situation. In fact, much to his surprise, she seemed to relax quite a bit.

"You don't seem to be proving me wrong, ya know." He jumped a bit when he felt her pinch his leg. He chuckled softly, "Right. I'll be quiet now."

They stayed like that for some time. Alfred was surprised, but really happy. Although he enjoyed this, he wasn't one to sit still for long. He started getting fidgety.

Natalya, having no problem noticing this, squirmed her way out of his arms and onto her feet. The American stared at her for a moment before standing up, "We should probably get going, huh?"

She nodded, "You insisted on dragging me back, so yes."

He smiled, "Right! You have visitors! At my house! Or… I suppose that means I have visitors, but they're visitors for you!"

She rolled her eyes and pulled on her shoes, "Shut up. You're not helping yourself."

He rubbed the back of his head, "Oops. I guess I'm not." He got out of bed and walked over to the suitcase. He grabbed new clothes and went to the bathroom to change in private.

Once changed, they set out on the road again. They weren't quite on the way back to Alfred's house yet though. There was one stop they needed to make first.

The car pulled into one of the closest parking spaces to the front door. The driver's side door swung open, and out came Alfred. He walked to the passenger's door and opened it for Natalya.

She stepped out and looked at the place they'd arrived to. She sighed, "Really?"

A wide grin consumed Alfred's face, "Yeah dude! Er, dudette! Whatever! I figured we could make it before breakfast was over!"

"Let's hurry up then."

Once inside, Alfred was excited to see that there wasn't a line. He hopped over one of the railings for the lines and went up to the cashier. His eyes scanned the menu shortly before he requested, almost in a shout, "Two Sausage, Egg, & Cheese McGriddles, please!"

The woman working there punched the order into the machine before looking up at Alfred with a bored expression, "Anything else, sir?"

He scanned the menu once more, "Yeah! A tall McCafé Hot Chocolate would be swell."

The woman punched that in as well, "Is that it?"

Alfred looked over his shoulder, "Yo, Nattie! Want anything?"

Her twilight eyes glared at him, "You do not get to call me Nattie." Her eyes left him and looked at the menu, "Just a tall McCafé Latte."

Alfred turned to tell the cashier, but she had heard Natalya and already put it in for her, "Are you done yet?"

He nodded, "Yeah! I am!"

"That'll be $8.23, sir."

Alfred pulled his wallet from his back pocket and grabbed nine dollars. He handed it to the woman and smiled, "You can keep the change." She appeared grateful to him, even if it wasn't much.

She gave him his receipt and he sat down at a table with Natalya sitting opposite of him.

"Tell me something," she started as soon as they both sat down.

"Yeah?" he waited unusually patiently for her to continue.

"Why are we driving back to your home instead of taking the plane? A plane would've been much faster."

He shrugged, "I dunno, it just seemed fun, and I-"

He was stopped when he heard the cashier call his order number. He stood up and went to get it.

Natalya received her coffee from him before he sat down again. The moment his butt had touched the seat, "And you?"

His hands were unwrapping one of the McGriddles when he looked up at her, "Hm?"

A soft breath came out of her mouth, "You didn't get to finish before you went to get the food. You said it seemed fun, and you…" she trailed off, giving him the chance to answer.

"Oh!" He took a giant bite of his food. Without even swallowing, he answered, "I thought it'd be fun to spend time with you!"

She looked away and took a sip of her latte, "You could finish eating before you talk. It's disgusting."

He looked a bit embarrassed, swallowed the food in his mouth, and laughed a bit, "Sorry, babe!"

In a quick twist, she was staring at him. Her mouth was in a frown, but she had raised one of her eyebrows. "Excuse me? Babe?"

Alfred felt his cheeks light up, "Shit, did I say that out loud? I just- Um! Ignore it!" He attempted to laugh it off. Natalya, on the other hand, wasn't too sure about it. First he was calling her 'Nattie,' and now 'babe' slipped out.

With another sip of her coffee, she decided that she'd need to be more cautious around him.

* * *

><p>Woo finally I updated it!<p>

I apologize for such a late update! To be honest, I'm having motivation issues, and while I love this story, I really don't care too much about continuing it. D:

Don't worry though, I do intend to finish it as soon as I can! C:

I hope this chapter is enjoyed!


	13. Chapter 13

The trip on the road once they left was a quite quiet.

Alfred had ear buds in that were connected to his iPod Touch. He hadn't done so without asking Natalya if she wanted to listen first, of course. She was still a bit tired and had declined.

Besides being tired, she wanted time to think. Alfred was making such silly little mistakes, recently. That wasn't to say he hadn't always made silly little mistakes, but it just seemed to be growing more and more frequent.

And on top of all that, she could no longer deny that she was falling ill. A feeling in the pit of her stomach twisted whenever she was near the American. It was nothing like what she felt when she went after her brother, and that was probably the worst part to her.

A sigh passed through her lips, "Oh no." This path she was taking would only lead to harm. _Please, let me live without it_, the thought crossed her mind. _Let me live without needing his love._

For now, she decided, she would be alright. She didn't _need_ his love, not yet. She could break this off before it got serious. When they got to his house, she would meet his guests like she said, gather her things, and then she would part ways.

Yes, that was a perfect idea. She smiled and let out another long breath of air. She felt her shoulders relax a bit. It hadn't hit her that she was so tense over such a stupid matter.

Soon though, it would be over. She'd part ways from him and go on to live without him or anyone.

_Or anyone?_ A wave of confusion swept over her. _No, not without anyone. I would have big brother. _

Suddenly, she felt very dizzy. She'd never forgotten her love towards her brother before. It was always there for her to fall back on. It was her reason for everything she did. _Maybe this would make him love her. Maybe, just maybe, he'd take notice of how devoted she was to him._

But now... Well, now was different. She wanted to ignore what she felt. A bit of anger bubbled into her about the lies they told her of Russia becoming human. More anger bubbled over at the thought of it being true. He never trusted her enough to show that he had someone he cared for.

And yet, at the very same time, she felt that she couldn't show that anger. Alfred had seen enough of that from her. Something within her, something she didn't like, wanted her to try and make him proud of her.

_Proud of what? _she thought bitterly to herself. _Proud of hiding my emotions? That's what makes a woman weak, not strong. My emotions define me, and if I feel angry, I'll show it._

Just as that thought had concluded and she relaxed her mental barriers, ready to fly off the handle with rage, something else happened. She didn't feel angry, not like before. Instead, she felt something wet on her face and some sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As if she no longer had any sort of control over her body, her hands went to her face without them wanting to. She wiped at her eyes, covering her hands in tears. From the corner of his eye, Alfred noticed the motion and looked over at her. It took him a moment before he was able to see that she was crying.

He took his hands off the steering wheel and yanked the ear buds from his ears, "Holy shit, Nattie, are you-" The car swerved on the road causing him to shout a quick swear and grab onto the steering wheel.

He didn't need to finish his question to get an answer from Natalya to find out. She was very obviously not alright. The car pulled over the side of the road and he looked over at his dear friend, "Nattie, what's wrong? Tell me what happened."

She took her breaths in deep gasps and sniffed loudly before wiping her nose with her already wet hands. She shook her head quickly and tried to steady her voice, but it cracked against her, "I-I'm fine. Ju-just drive."

Alfred summoned up the will to resist rolling his eyes, "I asked that question a while ago, and I got my answer. Look at you, you're not fine! If you don't want to, you don't have to tell me what's wrong, but at least tell me how I can help you!" To be perfectly honest, Alfred, the great hero he is, wasn't around crying people often. He didn't even know how to help himself when he cried, let alone someone else.

Now, even if Natalya wanted to answer him, she couldn't. The tears came harder and she wasn't even sure why herself. She'd given up just trying to wipe the tears and snot away. Instead, she just covered her whole face and tried to cover up her sobs.

Alfred racked his brain, searching for some idea of what should be done, but he didn't get many good ones. Acting on what he thought the best of the few he got was, he unbuckled his seat belt and tossed open his door, narrowly missing a car that drove by.

Quickly getting out and shutting the door, he rushed to the other side of the car and opened the passenger's door. Leaning in, he tossed his arms around Natalya and pulled her close against him.

For a moment, her crying ceased, and she froze up. Then the seatbelt started digging into her side, forcing her to speak. Her voice came out quietly, still shaking quite a bit, "Alfred, that hurts. You're pushing the seat belt against my side."

He quickly jumped back away from her, "Oh shit! I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

There was a soft click as she unbuckled her seat belt, and she found herself smiling, though she felt very numb, at Alfred, "You imbecile. You really don't think of others, do you?" She laughed a bit.

Glad that she was smiling, Alfred smiled as well, "I make some attempts, ya know!" He waved his hands at her, "Scoot over, would ya?" She did just that, and Alfred plopped down right next to her.

"So," he began, "When's your birthday?"

She looked at him, "Huh? What brings this up?"

He gave her a big grin and said, "I need to know! I have to know when I have to throw you a surprise birthday party!"

It took a blank stare from her for him to realize what he gave away. "I've said too much," he realized slowly.

She shook her head, "Truly hopeless. It's August 25th."

Alfred reached out in front of him and opened the glove compartment. Things fell out immediately, but he ignored them and dug around the messy compartment. Once he found a pen and notebook, he picked up and shoved the items back in and quickly shut the compartment. He jotted down a quick note of her birthday and tossed the notebook into the back seat.

Looking over at Natalya, he gave another big smile, "Now I wont forget it!"

Tears welled up in her eyes again and she fought to hide them. She smashed her teeth together inside her mouth and bit down hard to draw her focus somewhere else.

Unfortunately for her, Alfred took notice. He wrapped his arms around her once more. She found it easy to lean on him and relax, letting the tears flow, slowly this time.

He put his chin on top of her head and sighed, "Is there anyway I can get you to tell me what's wrong?" Her wet tears seeped through his shirt and onto his shoulder.

With a sniff, she spoke, her voice shaking, "It can't be true, right? Big brother... He wouldn't just leave me without saying something, would he? I thought... I thought maybe he cared about me just a little bit, but-" Her voice started cracking and she bit back a sob. Alfred felt his heart lurch at the sound.

Still, she found the strength to continue talking. "I-I've wasted so much of my life, ha-haven't I?"

Alfred reacted much quicker this time. He rubbed one hand up and down her arm comfortingly. Choosing his words carefully, he started, "You did what you wanted to in the moment. There's nothing wrong with that, living in the moment." He wiped a few tears away with his fingers before lifting his head off of hers. Cupping her face in his hands, he rubbed her cheek with a thumb before kissing right below her eyes. He tasted her tears, salty and full of sorrow.

But it worked. She stopped crying. She stared at him wide eyed, her mouth partially open. He moved her head back and pat the top of her head with a quick, nervous laugh. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked.

She snapped back into reality. "Why did you?" her voice trailed off.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he answered simply, "Living in the moment, that's all. And the moment said to do it."

She laughed bitterly, "You'd be a much better brother than Russia ever was." Talking about her brother left a foul taste in her mouth. The sadness had fled and the anger conquered, as it always did with her.

"That role doesn't suit me. That's a role for Arthur or France. Even Matthew plays the role better than me." He tossed his shoulders back, "I've never wanted to be your brother anyways, ya know?"

She frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Realizing he offended her, he quickly tossed his hands up as though he was being arrested, "Not what you think! I swear!" With her skeptical eyes on him, she leaned in close and kissed her cheek, "I've never wanted to be your brother because I wanted..." He stopped and laughed quietly, "Actions speak better than words. You've heard that, right?" But before he let her answer, he pressed his lips against hers.

Surprise overtook her. Had he done this any sooner, she was certain she would've shoved him off and never spoken to him again. After today though, even though they hadn't really done anything, she found herself not just okay with it but wanting it. He'd seen her at her worst and at her most vulnerable, and he'd still stayed by her.

Thinking about that thought, she allowed herself to close her eyes and just enjoy the feeling of his lips on hers.

Seeing her close her eyes encouraged him to do the same. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest, for he hadn't expected that he'd do something like this. Of course, he'd think about it often, but acting on it was something entirely different.

Cliché or not, the few seconds he kissed her felt like minutes. He pulled away, his cheeks lit up a soft red. Looking at her, he could see the blush still creeping up to her ears. Her eyes dodged his, and neither of them could find a thing to say.

Well, almost. Natalya thought a bit faster than Alfred did. "I know I've overstayed my welcome," she started, "But do you think I could stay with you longer?"

He laughed, full and heartily, "You haven't overstayed your welcome! You're welcome for as long as you want." He flashed her a smile before adding, "And I'd love it if you stayed with me longer."

They embraced each other for a few moments longer before they mutually agreed that they needed to keep driving. They spent, neither would say wasted, quite a bit of time at the side of the road, so it'd take them another day longer to return to Alfred's home.

With a large smile consuming his face, Alfred took a mental note for himself, _Definitely apologize to Lithuania. Buy him some pizza to cheer him up._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

self control is waiting until chapter 13 of a fic you're writing to make your otp kiss (or maybe it's just torture idk they're like the same thing at this point)

wow okay it's been a while (again) but i seriously plan to do more writing! (although i say this like every update) bUT I SWEAR

probably

i've got a lot on my plate right now forgive me guys. i'm multitasking high school, college, volunteering, planning a club (woot gonna start my school's first anime club here's hoping that goes well!) and probably getting my first job soon

i can't remember if i've already said why russia became a human or not yet but /claps hands together I'M SO SORRY IT WAS JUST TO MOVE THINGS ALONG THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO OTHER REASON I'M SO SORRy

now that that's off my plate, if any of you were wondering, my current life activities are  
>show i'm watching: Psycho Pass (i'm on episode 19 so almost done!)<br>things i'm listening to: Welcome to Night Vale (wow i'm in love w/ this podcast i'm on episode 19B)  
>i'm reading: Eldest - Christopher Paolini (i read Eragon like forever and a day ago so now I'm reading Eldest)<br>other ongoing shows i'm watching: Naruto Shippuden, Attack on Titan, Dangan Ronpa, Free!, Daybreak Illusion, hmm i think that's it (i also keep up to date on Homestuck and Ava's Demon but Ava's Demon just went on hiatus :C but that's okay good things will come from it!)

until next time, dear readers!


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